Keep the Faith
Keep the Faith
Echoes of War Book 5
Daniel Gibbs
Contents
CSV Lion of Judah Blueprints
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
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Free Daniel Gibbs Books
Acknowledgments
Keep the Faith by Daniel Gibbs
Copyright © 2019 by Daniel Gibbs
Visit Daniel Gibb’s website at www.danielgibbsauthor.net
Cover by Jeff Brown Graphics—www.jeffbrowngraphics.com
Additional Illustrations by Joel Steudler—www.joelsteudler.com
Editing by Beth at BZhercules.com
3D Art by Benoit Leonard
This book is a work of fiction, the characters, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. For permissions please contact info@eotp.net.
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Echoes of War
Book 1 - Fight the Good Fight
Book 2 - Strong and Courageous
Book 3 - So Fight I
Book 4 - Gates of Hell
Book 5 - Keep the Faith
Book 6 - Run the Gauntlet
Breach of Faith
(With Gary T. Stevens)
Book 1 - Breach of Peace
1
CSV Lion of Judah
New Rostov - League Border Planet
October 17th, 2462
Another week, another battle. This time, though, we’re on the League’s home turf.
Colonel David Cohen couldn’t help but smile at his thought. It was coming up on two and a half years since he’d been assigned as the commanding officer of the CSV Lion of Judah. While he adjusted himself in the CO’s chair on the bridge, a voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Conn, TAO. Aspect change, multiple inbound wormholes, League of Sol signature,” First Lieutenant Ruth Goldberg said as the ship rocked from repeated weapon impacts. She was the ship’s tactical action officer, responsible for fighting the ship in combat, on the orders of the CO.
“TAO, firing point procedures, Hunter missiles, Master Seventy-two,” David said, his voice calm and collected. “Make tubes one through twenty ready in all respects.” He glanced to his right, checking on his Saurian XO—Lieutenant Colonel Talgat Aibek—who was hunkered down, strapped into the chair’s harness. Bathed in blue light while the ship ran at condition one, the scales atop Aibek’s head took on an even more colorful hue.
“Aye aye, sir. Tubes one through twenty ready in all respects, firing solution locked.”
“TAO, match bearings, shoot, tubes one through twenty.”
“Conn, TAO. Hunter missiles are running hot, straight and normal sir,” Ruth replied as the Lion shuddered from the firing of the large anti-ship weapons that integrated limited artificial intelligence for superior point defense avoidance.
David stared at the tactical plot on the monitor above the CO’s chair, watching as the missiles raced toward their target—a League of Sol planetary defense station. They were in orbit of New Rostov, a League border planet in the Orion arm of the Milky Way. The fusion warheads impacted against the shields of the station, causing fireballs to erupt across their surface. After eleven hits, the energy screen failed, and the rest detonated against the armored hull of the installation.
“I would love to see the look on the face of the League officer commanding the defense effort,” Aibek said, displaying a toothy grin as only a Saurian could.
David couldn’t help but snicker. “You mean, you’d love to see him pee his pants when five hundred CDF and RSN ships dropped out of wormholes, directly on top of his base?”
“Exactly, sir.”
“Conn, TAO. New contacts, designated Master Eighty-seven through One Hundred Twenty-three. Three Alexander class battleships, with Rand class cruiser and Cobra class destroyer escorts.”
“Typical League battlegroup formation,” David said toward Aibek.
“Conn, communications. I’ve got a vidlink for you from General Becker,” First Lieutenant Robert Taylor, the communications officer, interjected to the conversation. He’d been with the ship from the beginning and was an accomplished martial artist who specialized in exotic decryption ciphers.
Becker was the Coalition Defense Force flag officer leading the invasion of League space; he flew his flag from the CSV Audacious, the largest and most powerful fleet carrier in the CDF’s inventory.
“Communications, route it to my monitor.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
A moment later, the face of Wilhelm Becker appeared above David’s head on the monitor that hung from the ceiling. “Guten nachmittag, Colonel Cohen. My compliments to your timing, as always.”
David smiled. “Well, my father always told me that being early was being on time.”
“Ja, ja. Good advice. I see the League is jumping in reinforcements. Will there be a problem pushing through to Rostov? Our timetable for dropping the Marines hasn’t changed.”
“Don’t worry, General. The Leaguers haven’t sent enough ships to challenge the invasion effectively. We’ll be there, and with time to spare.”
“Excellent, Herr Colonel. Godspeed, Becker out.”
“More confident than usual, sir?” Aibek asked.
David flashed a grin. “Since when has my mouth written checks it can’t cash?”
Ruth snickered and glanced back. “Remind me again what a check is, sir? Since you’re from the before time.”
“You’ll be over the hill soon enough, Lieutenant,” David said with a bit of a smirk. “Navigation, take us into a tighter orbit and prepare for assault pod insertion.”
“Aye aye, sir,” First Lieutenant Shelly Hammond replied; she was the Lion’s first watch navigation officer and helmsman.
Ruth, meanwhile, had turned back to her console. “Conn, TAO. League ships are withdrawing under sub-light power.”
I wish we could run them down, but Becker’s orders are quite clear. David stared forward. “TAO, anything left within our weapons ra
nge?”
“Negative, sir.”
“Very well, steady as she goes. Communications, give the ten-minute warning to Colonel Demood.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Taylor said.
“Ten minutes to drop,” Taylor’s cheerful voice said through the commlink inside of Lieutenant Colonel Calvin Demood’s helmet.
“Acknowledged, Lieutenant,” Calvin replied, glancing around the shuttle he and his command element had embarked upon. I’d much rather be riding down there in an assault pod myself, but those Terran Coalition Marine Corps bean counters won’t let a MEU commander take that mode of transport. MEU stood for Marine Expeditionary Unit.
“I wonder if New Rostov looks any newer than the last League planet we invaded?” Reuben Menahem, the Master Gunnery Sergeant for Calvin’s MEU, said with a smirk.
“Something tells me that none of those League planets look any different until we get well into their empire.”
“I wonder why they stand for how they’re treated?” Menahem commented. Like Calvin, he wore a suit of TCMC power armor. Unlike him, Menahem had the flag of the state of New Israel under the banner of the Terran Coalition on his right shoulder.
“Probably don’t know any better, Master Guns. I mean, think about it, they live their entire life brainwashed to slave away for the state as does everyone around them.”
“Yeah, but I’d like to think I’d resist.”
“You might until they shoot your family.”
“Good point, Colonel.”
Calvin glanced over at him, a hard look on his face. “One of the reasons I enjoy putting those damn political commissars of theirs down. Rank and file Leaguers are bad enough. Political officers are the lowest scum of the universe.”
“Agreed, sir.”
Calvin caught the hesitation in Reuben’s eyes before he looked away. He set his jaw, memories of the past flashing briefly through his mind. Reuben probably wonders if I’m going to go off the reservation again. He’s got a right to wonder. Calvin had been attending therapy sessions privately with Doctor Ellison for over a year now and was still working through many issues associated with mental trauma from a lifetime of service to the TCMC. They’d made progress together, but he still had to wrestle with his demons.
“Miss the drop pods?” Calvin asked.
“Can’t say I do, sir. The high G impact and stress on the bones adds up over time.”
Calvin flashed a smirk. “Maybe I’m just nuts, but I long to feel the thrill again of hurtling toward a planet at twenty times the speed of sound in a tiny pod with seven of my closest friends.”
“With respect, sir, that’s not a ‘maybe’ on the nuts part.”
Several Marines within earshot laughed out loud at the two men.
Calvin quirked his mouth into a grin. “No arguments here, Master Guns.”
For the next few minutes, not much was said as the final checks were run prior to departure. Calvin found his mind wandering back to the last vidlink he’d had with his wife. Her mood, while outwardly happy, made him concerned for her overall wellbeing. The stress of wondering if I’m coming home must be unbearable at times, especially after twenty years of it.
“We’re ready to dust off, Colonel,” the pilot of the shuttle said through the commlink.
“No objections here, Warrant. Take us out.”
“Aye aye, sir!”
The shuttle jostled and weaved as it departed the protective moorings of the Lion’s hangar bay. As it quickly accelerated, the G-forces pressed all the power-armored Marines back into their seats.
“Hoorah,” Calvin said, laughing at the same time. “Now this is more like it. Leaguers to kill, civilians to liberate, and some candies to spread around if we’re lucky!”
“Do you take anything seriously, Colonel?” Menahem asked, a grin visible through his helmet.
“God, bullets hitting my armor, and my wife.”
“Can’t argue with that list.”
“Hoorah,” Calvin intoned, the Marine response to everything.
Through his command link, Calvin watched as the shuttle tipped nose down toward the surface. While the other Marines didn’t have the same interface in their helmets, he could see the sensor reports and cameras outside the craft. Something about the way the atmospheric friction turned to red-hot heat against their protective shield was fascinating. Almost like reaching out and touching a star—except we’re riding it!
Menahem prayed quietly in Hebrew, while the rest of the Marines all had their own rituals before combat. Some took out prayer beads, and others told jokes. A few sat quietly—Calvin was in that group. All united in the brother and sisterhood of war. Someday, I’m gonna quit doing this crap and go home.
2
Government Central
New Rostov - League Border Planet
October 17th, 2462
“Commissar,” Gregory Ivanov began, his gaunt and weathered face a testament to the difficulty of life on the God-forsaken planet on which they lived. “The planetary defense system is destroyed, our orbiting fleets destroyed or retreated… please, we can’t continue to resist.”
The man crossed his arms in front of him and stared Ivanov down. “The will of the Social and Public Safety Committee, as well as Chairman Pallis, is that we fight to the last man, woman, and even child if necessary.”
Ivanov couldn’t keep the look of disgust off his face. He was the closest thing New Rostov had to a leader. Chairman of the local labor committee, it was his duty to see to the welfare of his people. I can’t even get us a working radiation screen, much less the actual necessities of life. “Surely the chairman would understand. Our garrison is barely a hundred strong.”
“I’ve given orders to open the emergency weapons cache. Everyone is being armed as we speak.”
The two men stood close to each other, inside of what amounted to the command and control operations center for their settlement and mining systems. Others were present, mostly government workers, along with a couple of sentries. Ivanov shook his head. “The Terrans will kill us all. We can’t hope to hold out against their power-armored Marines.”
“Then it is the will of the state that we die,” Vasyl Sobol, the political officer, stated.
Ivanov had actively disliked the man since he’d arrived six months ago. The prior commissar at least listened and seemed to want to help the workers. He winced. That’s why they got rid of him, you fool. “I’m not going to let you send my men, their families, or my family out to die.”
“They’re not your men,” Sobol stated, his voice suddenly quiet. “They’re tools of the state. You are a tool of the state, as is your family. I, too, am but a tool of the state.”
The small, dingy room became silent as the few others standing about stared openly at Ivanov and Sobol.
“The entire point of our socialism is for the state to take care of us, Commissar. If the League won’t protect us, then we’ve no choice but to surrender.”
Sobol’s lips curled into a grin that was sinister, but given the circumstances, almost comical. “If you try, I’ll kill you, but not before I kill your wife and children as you watch, powerless to stop me.”
One of the other workers' committee members, Fedor Markov, spoke up. He was a close, personal friend of Ivanov. “Commissar Sobol, Gregory is right. We lack the tools to fight the Coalition Defense Force. Please, can’t you get the Navy to send more ships?”
“We must make do with what the state has allocated to us, comrade. We will fight to the last man and woman,” Sobol stated. “I will give my own life to the state, just as I demand the same of you.”
Ivanov stared, mentally running down different arguments to try. Well, at least he’s not a hypocritical zealot. Maybe I can work with that.
A panicked voice from across the room interrupted them. “Chairman Ivanov! I just received a transmission from the army support base. Terran Coalition Marines in power-armor have landed and forced their way past our defenses.”
Iva
nov turned to stare fiercely at the political officer. “See reason! Heavy suits? We don’t have the means to defeat one of them, much less an army.”
“We fight to the death!”
“I won’t send my family to die,” Markov said, his eyes flashing defiance. “Kill me, I don’t care. Better to die by the hand of a socialist than one of those accursed capitalist dogs.”
Time seemed to slow down as Sobol suddenly held a standard-issue League sidearm in his hand, aiming at the man’s center mass.
Ivanov’s eyes opened wide as saucers. He could almost picture Markov pitching backward, shot by the commissar. Not on my watch. He grabbed the nearest heavy object—a heavy titanium hammer—and swung it at the back of Sobol’s skull. Metal met flesh with a sickening sound, blood spraying out of the wound.
The gun fell out of his hand, and the officer pitched headfirst into the floor.
Silence reigned, men and women glanced at one another, and expressions of gratitude morphed into fear and terror.
“I had no choice,” Ivanov said, his voice low. “Him or us.”
“Chairman, what will we do?” a woman toward the back said. “The Terrans will kill us all!”