by Daniel Gibbs
“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 engag
ement, 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 nea
rly 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!”