Sacrifice:The Shenkar War

by Libby, Seth

  “Yes, sir,” said Jane, and then she gathered her notes and left.

  Leaning back in his chair, the President rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. How tired he felt. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep. Even when he served in the Air Force, flying F-16s during Desert Storm, he never had been so tired. He was in his third year in office, and it had been a tough time since his election. The beginning of his presidency had been focused on cleaning up the mess left by the Iraq War, and then the Avian influenza pandemic had struck. Always he was making tough decisions that cost so many lives yet were for the greater good.

  Now, once again, he was a day away from possibly sending over five hundred men and women to their certain deaths for a greater good. All this made him start to think of whether there was a higher power. He had never been a religious man, not taking much stock in it. He always felt religion had been the cause of more problems than necessary. But now he was starting to consider taking up praying on a regular basis. For even if the EDF Sacrifice succeeded in its delaying of the Shenkar fleet, they still needed all the luck they could get if they were to complete the fleet in time and properly train them.

  In truth, President Sheehan had been considering volunteering himself as a pilot if he thought he could get past his friend, General Kelvin. Frank would never let him into a cockpit, even if he thought it would make a difference. While his life wasn’t any more valuable than the common American citizen, he still was the President, and if they were to succeed in this, he wanted to be there to lead the survivors in rebuilding the world and not leave it to someone who might jump on the chance to create their own private empire.

  Leaning forward again, he shuffled through the many papers spread across his desk: reports on how the shipyards were doing with the construction, reports on the training of the men and women who would operate the ships and fighters, and finally, the reports on religious groups. They were causing trouble over the impending attack on Earth, stating that it was Judgment Day and that now was the time to repent in order to make it to heaven. While most of the religious groups were just speech givers, there were a few minor groups that had tried on several occasions to penetrate training areas or even to find a way to the shipyards in attempts to sabotage everything, stating it was the will of God. All of this was another reason he had no use for religion. The reports seemed endless, and he had to read through every one. This was going to be another very long day with yet many more to follow.

  September 6, 2012, 5:58 p.m. ESTHanscom Air Force Base

  The Air Force marching band flared to life, shattering the low buzz of conversation inside of the large hangar. President Sheehan heard the announcer say his name, and he stepped on to the stage, waving to the crowd before him. The announcer continued introducing the rest of the world dignitaries as President Sheehan made his way to his seat. Taking his seat, he looked around the hangar; everything appeared as it should. The stage was built to the rear of the hangar with the media positioned directly in front, separated only by the marching band. Two large sets of bleachers sat on either side of the stage, slightly forward and diagonally away from the stage.

  As the dignitaries took their seats, the crew of the EDF Sacrifice was introduced. Men and women dressed in the blue-and-gray uniforms of the new Earth Defense Force entered from the rear of the hangar, moved across the stage, and continued on to the set of bleachers to the left. As the final crew member took his seat on the bleachers, the presenter was off again, announcing the pilots of the Templar Order. Men and women entered once again, but to tell who was who would be hard, for all wore the segmented armored black suits with helmets donned to conceal their faces. Every one of them had a deactivated plasma sword hanging from their belts. As the pilots seated themselves on the set of bleachers to the right of the stage, the band stopped and the announcer once again introduced President Adam Sheehan.

  Standing, he walked to the podium, waving a hand to the crowd before him, smiling at the applause. When the applause subsided, President Sheehan leaned forward to speak in his most commanding yet friendly voice.

  “Welcome, everyone. We have gathered here today to bid farewell to these men and women before us.” He extended a hand in each direction to indicate the men and women on the bleachers to the left and right of the stage.

  “We are here to give recognition to these brave citizens of Earth and the dangerous mission they are about to embark on. In all, we have 560 men and women willing to sacrifice their lives to give us the precious time we need. They are heroes from around the world, men and women from at least a dozen nations.”

  Turning to face the left set of bleachers, the President snapped to attention, saluting the men and women seated there.

  “I salute you all, men and women of the EDF Sacrifice. I commend you all. Do your duty and come home. You are the messengers delivering a message.”

  Turning to face the right set of bleachers, the President again snapped to attention, saluting them.

  “I salute you all, men and women of the New Templar Order. You have the hardest duty. You entered this mission knowing there is no coming back. There is no more noble deed I can think of that someone can perform than to give one’s life to protect the future of others.” President Sheehan’s voice rose with each word, a fist pumping the air. “For the crew of the Sacrifice might be the messengers, but you are the message! The Shenkar will learn what a human being is made of! The Shenkar will learn that what flows through our veins is more than just blood. For we feel love, and with love comes passion. Furthermore, with passion comes the ferocity inside any human being who will do anything and everything to protect a loved one. However, to acknowledge you for what you truly are, I will need some assistance from someone who has the authority required. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Queen of England, Queen Elizabeth II!”

  He was clapping as he turned to the great and elderly woman walking across the stage, a hand waving in the air to everyone before her.

  As Queen Elizabeth walked to the edge of the stage, the marching band departed around behind the media crews. A younger man hurried up and handed a sword hilt first to the Queen. All of the pilots of the Order stood and came to stand before her. The Queen held the sword high before her with one hand while the other hand stretched forward as if grasping at the top of someone’s head. She spoke, her voice coming crisp and clear.

  “Today, we dub you Knights of the New Templar Order as you prepare to undertake your mission. This sword represents Valor--strength of mind and spirit, which enables man or woman to encounter danger with firmness, personal bravery. It represents heroism. No matter what the day and age, the man or woman who stands for and is willing even to die for his or her own personal honor or a cause greater than him or herself has valor.

  “This valor is the essence of humanity--the essence when a man or women realizes that their life is not their own. Whatever the personal cost, as a man or woman you have been called to lead, to guide, to protect, and provide for another.

  “You are entering into the battle for the souls of humankind--for your very own soul. The enemy will try to break you, to separate you from your very soul. Nevertheless, we believe in you; you all have the souls of warriors.

  “You have personal integrity . . . you don’t lie. You have maturity, wisdom, and insight beyond your years.”

  The Queen moved the sword in front of her, level with her belly, point upward.

  “If you all will please kneel.” When they complied, she continued. “Few men and hardly any women were knighted during medieval times. I believe if you lived in that day and age, you would have been unquestionably awarded with knighthood.

  “Not many men or women are true men and women when they come of age. We believe differently of you. This dignity is not hereditary; it is earned and maintained through your personal honor and integrity.”

  The Queen then raised the sword straight up into the air to her full reach, then slowly lowered it
flat side down to the floor toward her right. Then the sword rose and crossed over to the Queen’s left and down. She repeated the same sequence. As she performed the final part of the lowering of the sword, she spoke.

  “Men and women before me, I hereby dub you Knights of the New Templar Order. Go forth and take the love and hopes of Earth with you.”

  The new Knights stood as a thunderous applause shook the hangar, everyone clapping enthusiastically, including President Sheehan and the rest of the world dignitaries.

  September 6, 2012, 6:26 p.m. ESTManchester, New Hampshire

  Leah’s arms wrapped around her legs, chin resting on her knees, as she rocked back and forth on the couch in her apartment while she watched the television. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She had been crying almost every day since she had seen the presidential broadcast that Liam had been in. All she could think about was their last conversation, how she had yelled at him. How could he do this to her?!? She had finally realized her feelings for him, and he was going off to get himself killed to save the world.

  September 6, 2012, 6:26 p.m. ESTHanscom Air Force Base

  Finishing his salute, President Sheehan turned back to the crowd. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, we will take you on a tour of the EDF Sacrifice.”

  At this, Liam, Evan, and the rest of Necro Squadron took their places to either side of President Sheehan and the rest of the world dignitaries as a sort of honor guard. Together, they walked from the hangar toward the waiting Omega shuttle that would take the world leaders to the Sacrifice. Ten Scorpion fighters also waited near the shuttle so that Necro Squadron could continue their duty as fighter escorts.

  About halfway to the shuttle, a commotion erupted just ahead and to the right as a van raced into view headed straight for them. Gunfire erupted from all around as the Secret Service rushed forward and fired upon the van.

  At about seventy feet away, the van came to a halt, and several men and women spilled from the vehicle, assault weapons in hand. Immediately, the first man in the group went down under a hail of gunfire from the Secret Service. However, outnumbered, soon the tides turned, and many of the Secret Service lay dead or dying on the ground. Liam and the rest hurried the dignitaries toward the shuttle with the gunmen in pursuit.

  Suddenly, a bullet tore through President Sheehan’s shoulder, and he went down. Signaling for the others to continue, Liam turned to help the President. Getting him to his feet, Liam half carried him toward the shuttle flanked by the only two remaining Secret Service men. Gunfire continued as they made their way toward the shuttle, and then silence came.

  “Stop, or we will kill you all where you stand!” came a male voice from close behind.

  Turning, Liam saw that the speaker stood fifteen feet away, aiming an assault rifle at them. Both of the remaining Secret Service men lay on the ground: one seemingly dead, the other grievously wounded. Two more of the gunmen also flanked the speaker, each carrying M16s. The speaker was a large man, also carrying a M16. Looking beyond them, Liam could see military police driving toward them, but they were too far away to help now.

  “What do you want?” the President asked, his voice full of pain.

  “You have interfered for the last time, for it is Judgment Day, and soon all true believers will ascend to heaven! How can you not see that the coming of this alien force is God’s way of cleansing the Earth of all the unfaithful? You are a tool of the devil in your attempts to prevent the coming, and now you will die!”

  It all happened in slow motion to Liam. One minute, he was standing next to the President; and the next, he had moved himself between the gun and the President, using his body as a human shield. He registered the flash of the muzzle and waited for the impact of the bullets into him. But flashes lit up Liam’s view as the bullets impacted against an invisible shield an inch from Liam’s body. Stunned, Liam looked down at his body. He had hoped his armor would take the brunt of the attacks, but there was nothing at all. Looking up at his attacker, he saw that he was just as stunned.

  Pulling his plasma sword from his belt, Liam leapt toward the three men, igniting the sword. All three men recovered quickly and poured gunfire into Liam, but the invisible shield stopped every bullet. Coming down in front of the leader, Liam swung his sword, decapitating the man as he stepped past him to the two remaining men. Both men turned to run, and Liam threw his sword, impaling one of the men through the back. At this point, the military police had finally made it to them, and they were leaping from their jeeps, drawing their weapons.

  “DROP YOUR WEAPON AND DON’T MOVE!” shouted one of the men.

  The remaining man spun around, bringing his weapon up, and the military police fired. Riddled with bullets, he fell dead to the ground.

  Ambulances pulled up soon after, and paramedics leapt from the vehicles, running to administer what help they could. Two paramedics immediately began to work on the President’s shoulder. Liam retrieved his sword, deactivated it, and walked over. As he approached, he overheard the paramedics speaking to the President.

  “The bullet passed through your shoulder. It will be stiff for a while, and once it is healed, you will need to stretch it to prevent scar tissue, but otherwise you shouldn’t suffer any long-term effects.”

  Seeing Liam approach, the President spoke. “Thank you, Lieutenant Commander Brennan. I owe you my life.”

  “Think nothing of it, sir; it is my duty to serve and protect.”

  “Nevertheless, I just wanted to thank you. We knew there were various religious groups causing problems, but it seems we were wrong on the lengths they would go to stop us.” At this, he stopped and looked Liam up and down.

  “When that man shot you, there were several flashes across your chest . . . what was that?” asked the President.

  “I don’t know, sir. It seems to be another benefit to the enhancement we underwent. It appears to interrupt attacks from kinetic weapons, which kind of makes sense,” mused Liam.

  “Why does it make sense?” asked the President.

  “During a plasma sword training session a while back, one of the Meshtrell--Reeta, I believe--made an offhand comment. Someone asked what good a sword would be against a shot from a Shenkar energy rifle? Reeta simply said, if a Shenkar shoots at you, then just deflect the shot with the sword.”

  “You can do that?” interrupted the President.

  “Yes sir, we can--another benefit of our nanites. Many of us at first thought Reeta had been joking, since out of all the Meshtrell, Reeta is quite the odd one. Even so, I do believe it was serious in that statement. After that, though, someone asked what good a plasma sword would do against a normal gun. Reeta’s only response was that we wouldn’t need to worry about any kinetic weapons, seeing as our body armor would be enough to stop bullets from hitting any vitals areas. As a result, when those religious nut bags shot me, the nanites instantly reacted and created an energy shield to intervene,” explained Liam.

  “Interesting,” the President mused. Then his face showed a look of intrigue as he asked, “Do you get the feeling the Meshtrell don’t know the full extent of what the nanites can do within your body?”

  “Yes, I have wondered that very thing. Every time something like this happens, they seemed surprised. We knew about the augmented strength, speed, and senses. They seemed to have known about our regeneration abilities, but I don’t think they knew to what extent. They knew about our ability to deflect energy bolts with our plasma swords, but like I said before, when it came to the question of kinetic weapons, they never mentioned the energy shield.”

  Before the President could say anything, the paramedic interrupted as he finished up. “Okay, Mr. President, we are all finished here. We will need to take you over to the medical center for a further evaluation, but--”

  “No,” the President interrupted. “I will not be going there just yet. We will finish the send-off ceremony first. Mr. Brennan, please help me up,” he said as he extended his good arm.

  Liam helped t
he President up, and together they walked to the waiting Omega shuttle. Evan stood outside with the rest of Necro Squadron in a protective shield to the entrance of the shuttle. As Liam reached the shuttle, Evan stepped forward.

  “The dignitaries inside the shuttle?” asked Liam.

  “Yeah, we felt they would be safe in there. If necessary, we could have sealed up the shuttle and had the pilots evac them to safety,” said Evan.

  “Excellent work, all of you. Get to your fighters . . . we leave as scheduled,” said Liam.

  Evan and the rest of Necro Squadron saluted the President, then turned and left for their fighters nearby. Liam waited for the President to board the shuttle before he turned and jogged to his awaiting fighter. Climbing into his cockpit, he quickly donned his helmet and strapped himself in. As he cycled through the start-up sequence, he keyed his comm unit. “Attention, Necro Squadron, this is Ghost. Prepare for liftoff.”

  Nine voices confirmed the order, and soon ten fighters thrummed to life with the hum of their ion engines. Once Liam was sure everyone was prepped for takeoff, he keyed the comm once again. “Flight control, this is Necro Squadron. We are on standby and awaiting clearance for takeoff. Please advise as soon as the Omega shuttle is ready.”

  Liam looked around at two nearby fighters; Evan and Tim sat in one each. Seeing Liam looking over at him, Tim gave him a thumbs-up and then, of all things, he saluted him. If he didn’t know Tim, he would have immediately thought he was being made fun of over his recent promotion to Lieutenant Commander. After a minute, his comm unit cracked to life.

  “This is flight control; you are clear for takeoff.”

  All ten Scorpion fighters’ ion engines thrummed, and slowly they lifted off the ground. At the same time, the Omega shuttle lifted off, matching the speed of the fighters. “Okay, Necro Squadron; form up in Defense Pattern Delta Omicron 4 around the shuttle,” said Liam into the comm unit.