“You’re telling me it doesn’t bother you when he insults God and the rest of us by saying he believes in the flying spaghetti monster?”
David laughed. “Of course it does—that’s Hayworth, not atheism. I know kind, considerate atheists, and I know nasty, mean religious people. Everyone has the right to believe as they wish in the Coalition. Everyone must come to God on their own—or not. HaShem will judge in the end, after we die. And if there ends up being no God...” He shrugged. “That won’t change how I lived my life the best I could according to His law and teaching.”
Ruth gave him a weak smile and shrugged. “That seems fair.”
“But you don’t agree.”
“My head agrees. My heart...”
“If you let Hayworth get under your skin, he wins. Worse, he proves his point—that if we abandon our principles, our Jewish faith is useless in the real world. It’s up to us to prove it’s not useless. It guides us in how we relate to people and what choices we make.”
Ruth smiled more genuinely. “Point taken.”
David looked at the clock and stood. “It’s about time for dinner. Care to join me in the wardroom?”
“Of course, sir.”
As they strode down the passageways, with crew members standing aside in the narrow places to let their commander by, David turned his thoughts away from interpersonal politics to upcoming combat operations. Endless possibilities 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 his new flagship, the LSS Annihilator. The last two weeks had been interesting, he reflected as he looked at the walls festooned with portraits of past League leaders. I still have a hard time understanding why 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, Seville had been informed by a doctor aboard the cruiser he ended up on that he would lose his other eye. Now he had two bionic eyes. Strangely enough, thanks to the technology level of the League, his artificial eyes were 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. Assigning blame and executing traitors after the fact were about the only things the Social and Public Safety Committee was good at. Seville had played the game long enough to pin the tail on everyone but him, especially those who were dead, including his flag captain. It pained him that the man’s family would be reassigned to a work camp, but the feeling was brief. 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’d gotten lucky and put the exact ship needed to counteract his plan in place with no advance notice. Chuckling, 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 viewed the conflict through a new lens. More, newer ships would be coming along with more troops. Seville had been promised they would see double the numbers in the next few months, but he would believe that when he saw it.
The chime at his hatch rang.
“Yes?” he called, annoyed.
“Admiral, it’s Colonel Strappi.”
Oh goody. “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.
“I didn’t expect your spirits to be so high, Admiral,” Strappi replied cautiously.
Seville regarded him. He really did despise political officers, but Strappi had grown on him, especially after saving Seville’s life. He’d resolved not to openly mock the man as much as he used to. “Despite 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 weren’t enough, the Saurians joined this so-called Canaan Alliance, and intelligence intercepts suggest the Matrinids will as well. On the face of it, this looks like a total disaster.”
Seville laughed. “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. “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 appeared as if he bought what Seville was selling. “In other words, destroy that ship and 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 it’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 som
e 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. The Lion would complete its final Lawrence drive jump into the testing area at 0700 the next morning, and they would 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.
After 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 between his hands, he gazed at the pictures he had put up: the one of him, his father, and his mother as well as a picture of him and Sheila, among others. Staring out at the stars in the quiet of the night, David realized that something had changed deep within him.
About six months ago was when he was alone and peering out into the vast sea of stars, beginning to feel small and not up to the task at hand. He questioned everything about himself—his decisions, feelings, and abilities. But tonight, looking out his window, he realized that those doubts had been replaced by a quiet confidence that required no boasting, ego, or validation. He felt confident that he was able, by the grace and help of God, to meet whatever the League threw at him, lead his crew into battle, and bring as many as possible home safely That was his calling, and for the first time in many years, perhaps even in his entire life, David was completely ready, committed, and confident.
In two weeks’ time, David Cohen, the Lion of Judah, and the full might of the Terran Coalition and the Saurian Empire were coming for the League of Sol and, if he was still alive, Admiral Seville. President Spencer had said Seville was wanted dead or alive, inviting comparisons to the Wild West of six hundred years ago back on Earth.
David chided himself for wishing more for the dead than alive part. A quote, which was attributed to dozens of people, though no one was really sure where it came from, came to him. “It’s not our job to judge the League’s soldiers. That’s God’s job. Ours is to arrange a face-to-face meeting as soon as possible.”
Chuckling, he was sure Sheila would have playfully yelled at him for saying that, but he would 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: Sneak Peak
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 op
ened 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.
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