The Calling – Chapter 31: Chariots of Fire

“Now when the attendant of the man of God had risen early and gone out, behold, an army with horses and chariots was circling the city. And his servant said to him, “Alas, my master! What shall we do?” So he answered, “Do not fear, for those who are with us are more than those who are with them.” Then Elisha prayed and said, “O LORD, I pray, open his eyes that he may see.” And the LORD opened the servant’s eyes and he saw; and behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha. When they came down to him, Elisha prayed to the LORD and said, “Strike this people with blindness, I pray.” So He struck them with blindness according to the word of Elisha.”

2 Kings 6:15-18

The Hunt Interrupted

The Stellar Scout F290 leapt into hyperspace, its fusion drives humming as it chased The Transapora’s course into the void. Wade Kovacs settled into the navigator’s chair, the glow of the tactical display reflecting in his eyes. Rephidim-5’s red dust and desperate settlers faded into memory, replaced by the weight of Elkiah’s warning—a rogue freighter spiriting ore to unknown ends. The crew buzzed with purpose, their faith bolstered by the fledgling church they’d left behind. Kristen’s quiet prayer lingered in the air, a steady anchor as they plunged deeper into uncharted space. Jay adjusted their course with his usual precision, while Mayumi pored over manifests, hunting for clues in the freighter’s cryptic path. Hours blurred into days, the ship’s rhythm—shifts, drills, scripture—a lifeline against the endless black. They were hunters now, tracking shadows with a higher calling. Exhaustion crept in, and Wade finally surrendered to sleep, trusting Jay’s steady hands at the helm.

The rhythmic hum of the twin engines had lulled Wade into a deep sleep. In his dreams, he was back on Earth, walking through a sun-dappled forest with Kristen by his side, the scent of pine and her laughter filling the air. Suddenly, he was back at Ranger school in a live fire with the Skravaks. He jolted awake as the ship’s warning system sliced through his subconscious like a jagged blade, ripping him from his dreams back to reality.”

Wade’s eyes snapped open, his body tensing as he reached for his data pad beside the bunk. The soft blue lighting of his individual berth had switched to a pulsing red glow, casting eerie shadows across the compact space. The clever storage solutions—recessed shelves and fold-out panels—that usually made the crew quarters feel spacious now seemed to close in around him, the walls vibrating faintly with the ship’s growing urgency.

“Warning. Skravak vessel detected. All personnel report to battle stations immediately,” the ship’s AI announced, its synthetic calm a jarring counterpoint to the chaos bleeding through the hull.

Wade’s heart thudded as he threw off his covers and grabbed his flight suit from the locker. He yanked on his boots, the Skravak name igniting a phantom ache in his titanium hand. His mind lurched back to that day—two years ago, pinned in the waste hatch of a Skravak derelict. He’d been last out, adrenaline pumping after the Argus had been ambushed. The hatch had been their escape, a rusted maw they’d pried open. He could still hear the hiss of his suit sealing, feel the cold metal brushing his glove—then the scream of hydraulics as the AI rebooted. The hatch slammed shut, shearing through flesh and bone, his arm a mangled ruin spurting crimson into the void. Jay’s hands had clamped his sleeve, Bikram’s desperate blow severing the last threads, the shuttle’s corpsmen a blur as the freighter exploded behind them. That day, vengeance had burned in him—a Ranger’s rage at the Skravaks’ cold efficiency. Now, as the destroyer closed in, fear clawed at that old wound—not for himself, but for Kristen, Jay, Mayumi. What if he lost them to this unforgiving enemy? The blare of the ship’s alarm snapped him back to the present.

Red Alert Rising

“How close?” he barked at the AI, his voice rough with sleep and adrenaline.

“Skravak vessel is approximately 50,000 kilometers and closing rapidly,” the AI replied, its tone maddeningly even.

He stumbled into the narrow corridor, nearly colliding with Kristen, who clutched her medical kit with white-knuckled hands. Her dark hair was pulled back tightly, her hazel eyes sharp despite the tension etched into her posture. “CCS?” she said, using the military shorthand for the Central Command Station. Wade nodded, and they sprinted down the passage, boots clanging against the metal deck.

The CCS door hissed open, revealing a scene of controlled pandemonium. Jay Ringler hunched over the pilot’s station, his wiry frame taut as his hands darted across the controls, adjusting thruster outputs with practiced precision. Mayumi Ringler sat in the nav/comms seat, her face illuminated by the flickering light of holographic displays, her fingers a blur as she parsed incoming data. The cockpit’s tight, two-person configuration kept everything within arm’s reach—just as Lieutenant Commander Goering had promised during their grueling training sims back at Command.

“Status report,” Wade demanded, bracing himself against the bulkhead as the ship shuddered faintly—likely Jay tweaking their course.

“Skravak destroyer on an intercept course,” Jay said, eyes locked on his screen, his voice clipped but steady. “It’s taken a beating already—sensor array’s partially fried, probably from a recent scrap. Closing fast, though.”

Wade leaned over the tactical display, its 3D projection between Jay and Mayumi painting the enemy ship in stark reds and oranges—a hulking, predatory silhouette bristling with weapon ports. “How bad’s the damage?”

“Their long-range active scans are crippled,” Mayumi said, her Japanese accent sharpening as she focused. Her fingers danced over the interface, pulling up a diagnostic overlay. “They’re leaning hard on passive sensors and visuals—closing in to compensate for the blind spots.”

Wade’s mind raced, snagging on a memory from high school history class—old submarine tactics, vessels lurking silent on the ocean floor while destroyers rained depth charges from above. A flicker of an idea took root. “Jay, how’s our EMP capacitor?”

Jay glanced up, a spark of realization in his hazel eyes. “Fully charged—been sitting at max since our last resupply. You thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

Wade’s lips curled into a grim smile. “We hit them with an EMP, drop to that planet’s surface”—he jabbed a finger at a rocky, storm-lashed world spinning slowly on the display—”deploy decoys, and go dark. Like subs in the old wars, waiting out the hunters.”

Faith vs Flight

“EMP, decoys, and hide?” Jay spun in his seat, hazel eyes narrowing. “We’ve got hyperspace juice—why not jump now, outrun them?” His fingers hovered over the controls, itching to act.

“Submarines?” Kristen asked, arching an eyebrow as she slung her med kit over her shoulder.

“Read about it in school.” Wade said, the memory sharpening. “They’d sink to the bottom, kill all systems but the bare minimum, and sit tight while the enemy pounded the water. If the Skravaks think we’re slag, they might leave—or better yet, lead us somewhere useful.”

Mayumi’s head snapped up from her console. “Their intercept speed’s too high—43,000 klicks and closing. They’d catch us mid-jump, shred us before we’re gone.”

Kristen frowned, slinging her med kit tighter. “What about a distress call? Command could scramble backup—we’re not equipped for this.”

Wade’s jaw tightened, Elkiah’s datapad flashing in his mind—rogue ore shipments, shadows in the void. “No signal,” he said. “We’re too deep, and this ties to The Transapora. We run, we lose the lead. We fight smart instead.” He tapped the display, the planet’s storms swirling below. “EMP blinds them and then we drop, go dark. Old sub tactics and we’ll outlast the hunter.”

Jay scoffed, tension cracking his bravado. “Your history hunch better pan out, boss. One pulse misfire, we’re toast.”

“More are with us than with them,” Wade shot back, voice steady, echoing 2 Kings 6:16. “We’ve got the edge—faith and tech. They’re crippled already.”

Mayumi nodded, numbers aligning in her head. “Their sensors are shaky—an EMP could finish them.”

Kristen exhaled. “Risky, but I’m in. Let’s move.”

Wade met their eyes—doubt lingered, but trust won. “Then let’s hit it.”

Mayumi nodded, her analytical mind already running the numbers. “They’d have to get close to confirm a kill—real close.”

“And if we tail them after,” Jay added, his hands hovering over the controls, “we might track them to a repair base. That destroyer’s too busted to limp far without a dock. We turn this into a recon goldmine.”

“Exactly,” Wade said, adrenaline surging. “What’ve we got for decoys?”

Mayumi tapped her console, pulling up the cargo manifest. “Spare parts—engine coils, hull plating—plus empty specimen containers and that busted sensor buoy we were hauling back to base. I can rig them to mimic our EM and heat signatures.”

“Do it,” Wade ordered. “Jay, plot a descent to the planet—low and fast, use the terrain. Kristen, prep the EMP burst—wide dispersal, max yield. Mayumi, get those decoys into the launch bay. We’ve got one shot before they’re on us.”

The next fifteen minutes dissolved into a frantic symphony of motion. Kristen knelt at the panel, hands steady as she rerouted power to the EMP capacitor. She wasn’t just the Scout’s medic anymore—necessity had forged her into its engineer too, a prodigy’s mind bending to the ship’s demands. Back on New Annapolis, her photographic memory had stunned Psych-school profs; she’d recite textbooks verbatim, diagnose rare conditions in seconds. The Scout’s cramped reality—four souls, no dedicated technician—had forced her to evolve. Kristen had devoured the ship’s manuals in a night, every schematic etched in her brain. She’d rewired shorted consoles during a meteor storm, patched a breached hull with scavenged plating, all while stitching up Jay’s gashed arm. Now, tying the EMP into the comm array, she visualized each circuit—blueprints unrolling in her mind’s eye. Her fingers danced, splicing lines with surgical precision, a medic’s calm fused with an engineer’s grit. “Max yield, wide spread,” she muttered, the stakes as familiar as a patient’s pulse. Wade’s nod anchored her; she’d become the ship’s lifeline, one crisis at a time.

In the cargo bay, Mayumi and Jay tore into the decoy drones—sleek, expendable pods the size of a man. They stripped out non-essentials, stuffing them with hull fragments, scorched wiring, and the sensor buoy’s radioactive core. “Boosting their emitters,” Mayumi said, soldering a connection. “They’ll scream our signature loud enough to wake the dead.”

Jay hefted a chunk of engine shielding into place. “Mass distribution’s key—they’ve got to scatter like a real wreck, or the Skravaks’ll smell the ruse.”

Pulse of Survival

Back in the CCS, Wade tracked the destroyer’s approach on passive sensors—its sleek, obsidian hull glinting as it closed the gap, plasma weapon ports glowing faintly violet. “Forty thousand klicks,” he muttered. “They’re not slowing down.”

“EMP’s primed,” Kristen called, sliding back into her seat. “Say the word.”

“Decoys loaded,” Mayumi reported over the intercom, her voice taut. “Spread pattern’s set—2-kilometer dispersal on launch.”

“Descent locked,” Jay said, hands gripping the yoke. “We’ll skim at 500 meters—canyons and dust storms’ll give us cover.”

Wade took a steadying breath, the weight of command settling on his shoulders. “Hit it.”

Kristen slammed the trigger. A silent pulse erupted from the Scout, an invisible shockwave rippling outward. The Skravak destroyer faltered mid-flight, its running lights stuttering as the EMP slammed into its crippled systems. Wade pictured their bridge crew scrambling…if they had a crew… long-range sensors dissolving into a haze of static.

“Now, Jay—drop us!” he shouted.

The Scout plunged toward the planet, engines howling as Jay threaded through swirling dust clouds and jagged, rust-red peaks. The hull groaned, G-forces pinning the crew to their seats, loose gear rattling in the compartments. At 500 meters, Mayumi punched the launch command. A dozen decoys streaked from the bay, fanning out across a 12-kilometer arc, their emitters blaring the Scout’s heat, EM, and transponder signals like desperate ghosts.

Jay nosed the ship into a shadowed ravine—a deep, wind-carved gash in the planet’s surface—and settled it amid a cluster of boulders. “Powering down,” he said, flipping switches in rapid succession. The engines’ hum faded to silence, the lights dimmed to a faint emergency glow, and the CCS went still save for the soft hiss of life support. Only passive sensors stayed live, feeding a grainy, monochrome view of the sky above.

Wade lowered his voice to a whisper. “Here they come.”

The Skravak destroyer loomed into low orbit, its plasma weapons igniting like miniature suns. Violet beams lanced downward, striking the decoys with surgical precision. Each hit erupted in a molten plume, vaporizing metal and kicking up geysers of dust. Then the bombardment widened—random, furious salvos of plasma raining across the surface, gouging craters and shaking the ground beneath the Scout. The hull trembled with each distant impact, the air thick with the crew’s held breaths.

“They’re buying it,” Mayumi murmured, her eyes glued to the sensor feed. “Targeting’s locked on the decoy spread—erratic, though. They’re madder than a wet hen.”

Wade clenched his prosthetic hand, the submarine analogy anchoring him. “Stay quiet. We wait them out—just like those old crews under the sea.”

Kristen shot him a sidelong glance. “You really think this’ll work?”

“Worked for them,” Wade said softly. “Depth charges or plasma bolts, same game. They’ll tire out and move on.”

The barrage stretched on, minutes bleeding into an hour. Dust plumes clogged the atmosphere, veiling the Scout’s position in a hazy shroud. The crew sat rigid, the silence broken only by the occasional thud of a stray bolt or the creak of settling metal. Finally, the plasma fire tapered off. The destroyer lingered, deploying a trio of sleek probes to sift through the wreckage—charred debris and melted alloys passing for the Scout’s corpse.

“They’re scanning,” Mayumi whispered, her voice barely audible. “Standard salvage pattern—looking for proof.”

Wade’s jaw tightened. “Let them look. We’re a ghost.”

Kristen prayed out loud in a whisper, “Father, blind them like You blinded the enemies of Elisha. Protect us and turn this to our advantage, in Jesus’ name.”

Ghosts of Recon

The probes circled for agonizing minutes, their faint hum detectable through the hull’s audio pickups. At last, the destroyer recalled them, emitting a short, encrypted burst. Mayumi’s eyes narrowed. “Victory signal—Skravak ‘target neutralized’ protocol. We’ve cracked enough of those to know the pattern.”

“Good,” Wade said, exhaling. “Now the fun part. Jay, they moving?”

Jay studied the feed. “Climbing out—slowly. Vector’s shifting toward sector seven-nine-three. They’re limping—engines at half output.”

“The EMP softened them up,” Wade said. “Mayumi, their sensors?”

“Long-range are toast,” she confirmed. “That pulse overloaded what was left—they’ll need a dock to fix it.”

Wade leaned forward, a predatory glint in his eye. “Then we follow. Jay, ease us up—five percent thrust, shadow their course. Mayumi, engage the hull’s stealth coating. Kristen, cycle our heat through the specimen sinks. We’re hunting now.”

“What’s the play?” Kristen asked, her hands already on the controls.

“We tail them to their base,” Wade said. “A destroyer that size doesn’t crawl home without repairs. We map it, study it, bring the intel back to Command. The Scout’s built for sneaking—let’s prove it.”

The next ten hours tested their skill and patience. Jay nursed the Scout upward, using the planet’s storms as cover, nudging the ship with minimal thruster bursts to avoid detection. Mayumi tuned the hull’s metamaterials—military-grade coatings that bent light and absorbed scans—until their signature vanished into the background noise. Kristen rerouted engine heat into the lab’s cryogenic storage, the near-absolute-zero chambers swallowing their thermal trail.

“They’re adjusting course,” Jay reported, his voice hoarse from focus. “Turning toward a dense debris field—looks artificial.”

Mayumi magnified the feed, excitement creeping into her tone. “Not natural—too uniform. Spectral spikes suggest a camouflage screen. Probably a repair outpost.”

Wade nodded, his mind racing. “Take us in slow, Jay. Find a spot to park among the junk—power down to life support and passives. We watch, we learn, we gather intel.”

The Scout glided into the debris field—a sprawling graveyard of twisted hulls, shattered satellites, and faint interference waves pulsing from hidden emitters. Jay wove through the chaos, settling the ship behind a jagged hulk—a derelict freighter’s gutted frame. Systems winked out one by one, the CCS plunging into near-darkness as the crew shifted to minimal power.

The Skravak destroyer maneuvered deeper into the field, its plasma-scarred hull vanishing behind a curtain of debris. Mayumi recorded its every move, her console logging entry patterns and signal bursts. “Complex approach,” she murmured. “They’re hiding something big.”

“Look at this,” Kristen said, pointing to a sensor spike. “The debris is generating a jamming field—broad-spectrum, low intensity. No wonder we’ve never pinged this place.”

Wade’s prosthetic hand flexed unconsciously, the stakes sinking in. They’d turned a desperate escape into a recon coup—penetrating a Skravak stronghold no human had ever glimpsed. “Settle in, friends,” he said, voice low but firm. “We’re here for the long haul. Map their defenses, analyze their ships, log everything. This could change the war.”

Jay cracked a tired grin. “Beats getting plasma-fried.”

“You got that right,” Mayumi said, already tweaking the passive arrays for better resolution.

Kristen leaned back, exhaling. “Guess your submarine trick paid off, Wade.”

He smirked faintly. “Old wars, new tricks. Now let’s make it count.”

As the Scout went dark, pride surged in Wade’s chest. The F290 had outfoxed a destroyer—and now it would peel back the Skravaks’ secrets, one silent scan at a time. The real mission had just begun.

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

The Calling – Chapter 30: Rhythms of the Void

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

“And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”

Galatians 6:9

Voyage to Rephidim-5

The Stellar Scout F2-90 sliced through the void, its fusion drives pulsing with a rhythmic hum that reverberated through the ship’s skeleton. Lieutenant Wade Kovacs stood behind the navigator’s seat, his cybernetic hand resting lightly on the edge of the bulkhead. The faint whir of servos accompanied his every movement—a reminder of both his sacrifice and the technology that now defined him. Across from him, Jay Ringler, the ship’s pilot, adjusted their trajectory with deft precision, his fingers dancing across the controls.

“Course correction complete,” Jay announced, his voice calm but clipped. “We’re locked on for Rephidim-5. ETA: 72 hours.”

Wade nodded, his gaze fixed on the holographic display in front of him. The screen showed a three-dimensional map of their route, with Rephidim-5 marked as a faint red dot on the edge of known space. The Scout was a reconnaissance vessel, not a warship, and its mission was simple: recon and surveillance. But Wade couldn’t shake the feeling that something was waiting for them out there.

“Keep an eye on those long-range sensors,” Wade said, his voice low but firm. “I don’t want any surprises.”

Jay smirked but didn’t look up from his station. “Relax, Ranger. If there’s anything out there bigger than a stray asteroid, I’ll spot it before it spots us.”

Behind them, Ensign Kristen Kovacs—Wade’s wife and the ship’s medic—entered the bridge carrying two steaming mugs of synth-coffee. She handed one to Wade and placed the other beside Jay before leaning against the opposite bulkhead from Wade.

“You two look like you’ve been glued to those stations for hours,” she said with a hint of amusement. “Take a break before you burn out.”

Wade took a sip of the bitter liquid and gave her a grateful nod. “Thanks, Kris. But I’d rather stay sharp than get caught off guard.”

Kristen raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. She knew Wade well enough to recognize when he was in “mission mode.” It was one of the things she admired about him—and one of the things that sometimes drove her crazy.

Life Aboard the Stellar Scout

The first weeks aboard the Scout had been an exercise in adaptation for all four crew members—especially as two newly married couples. As individuals and pairs, things got a little awkward; with no time to adjust to married life before the mission, they had to figure it out on the fly amidst the ship’s demands. The vessel itself didn’t help: small and cramped, its corridors were barely wide enough for two people to pass without brushing shoulders. Every inch of space was utilized for equipment or storage, leaving little room for personal comforts—or the privacy newlyweds might crave.

Wade had struggled most with the transition. His training as a Marine and Ranger had prepared him for vast open spaces, but the ship’s cramped quarters felt suffocating. His cybernetic hand didn’t help matters; it seemed to snag on every loose cable or protruding panel.

One particularly frustrating incident occurred during their second week aboard. Wade had been stowing gear in their shared quarters when his prosthetic caught on Kristen’s medkit, sending its contents spilling across the floor.

“Blast it!” he muttered under his breath as he knelt to pick up scattered syringes and diagnostic tools.

Kristen crouched beside him, her expression calm but tinged with exasperation. “You know,” she said dryly, “it wouldn’t kill you to slow down once in a while.”

Wade sighed and handed her a roll of synth-skin patches. “Sorry. Still getting used to this… thing.” He flexed his mechanical fingers as if to emphasize his point.

Kristen placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “It’s not just about the hand, Wade. You’re not out there anymore—you’re here, with us. Try to remember that.”

Her counseling skills and emotional intelligence made all the difference in smoothing over these tensions—not just for Wade, but for Jay and Mayumi too, as they navigated their own clumsy moments of married life. Still, even Kristen wore down occasionally, her patience fraying into a bad day every now and then, though she’d never let it show for long.

Drills and Discipline

The crew quickly settled into a routine designed to keep them sharp and prepared for any eventuality. Four-hour shifts at their respective stations were interspersed with maintenance drills and simulated combat scenarios. Early on, they had agreed that Wade would be in command, though with the caveat that there was room to discuss options and even disagree—but ultimately, his orders were to be obeyed.

In one such drill, Wade led Jay and Mayumi Ringler through a mock boarding scenario in the cargo bay. The space was dimly lit, its walls lined with crates and equipment that served as makeshift cover.

“Mayumi! Secure comms and relay our position to command!” Wade barked as he crouched behind a crate.

“Aye, sir!” Mayumi replied, her fingers flying over her portable console.

“Jay! Cover our flank!” Wade continued.

Jay rolled his eyes but complied, taking up position behind another crate with his training rifle at the ready.

“You know this is just practice, right? No one’s actually trying to kill us.”

“That’s what they always say—until someone is,” Wade shot back without missing a beat.

The exchange drew a quiet huff from Mayumi, who glanced at Jay as if to say, He’s not wrong, but still…

She didn’t voice it, though—she knew the deal: Wade’s word was final, even if they could debate it later. A clear leader kept them focused in a crisis, yet the space for discussion ensured their skills and morale stayed sharp—a balance that could mean survival out here.

Kristen watched from the sidelines, arms crossed and lips quirked in a faint smile. She admired her husband’s dedication but couldn’t help wondering if he sometimes took things too seriously. Still, she appreciated the balance he allowed—space for discussion, even if obedience was non-negotiable.

Faith Under Pressure

Amid their grueling schedule, the crew—all committed disciples of Jesus—had established a regular rhythm of gathering for reflection, a time they’d come to look forward to, taking turns facilitating discussions through Galatians. In the dimly lit common room, they’d sit around the table with ration packs, sharing the role of reading scripture and opening up about the highs and lows they were experiencing. They knew unresolved conflict could fracture the team, risking mission failure—not to mention falling short of the Great Commands to love God and each other.

One evening, it was Mayumi’s turn, the newest believer among them, still finding her footing in the faith. She read steadily from Galatians: “And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap if we do not give up.” Her voice held a quiet resolve, and she paused before adding, “I’m still wrapping my head around this ‘due season’ part. Sometimes it feels like we’re sowing into a void out here.”

Wade looked up from his hands—one flesh, one metal—and nodded, his tone raw. “I get that. Following Him’s never been the hard part for me—it’s trusting the timing when all I see is metal walls and no harvest. Some days, I wonder if I’m still the Ranger fighting my own battles instead of letting Him lead.”

Jay leaned back, fidgeting with a piece of freeze-dried fruit, his usual bravado softened. “Honestly? I’ve been wrestling with self-doubt again. I’ll grumble about no one back home caring, but deep down, I want them to notice us—to notice me. I’m wondering if I can hack it. I don’t want to let the team down. I’ve got to trust God to shore up my weaknesses.”

Kristen’s faint smile carried a warmth tempered by weariness. “You’re not alone there, Jay. My high’s been clinging to that promise of reaping—it’s what keeps me steady. But my low? I catch myself doubting if I’m loving you all well enough when I’m worn thin. Even disciples stumble.”

Mayumi tilted her head, her eyes searching theirs. “That’s what keeps tripping me up—how do you keep going when you stumble? I’m new at this, and half the time I feel like I’m faking it, like I don’t belong with you all yet.”

Wade leaned forward, his voice firm but kind. “You belong because He says you do, Mayumi. Faking it’s just part of the fight—we all feel that sometimes. It’s why we’re here, calling it out.”

Jay grinned, a flicker of his old spark returning. “Yeah, and if I can admit I’m a doubting Thomas, you can admit you’re still learning. We’re in this together—disciples under construction.”

Kristen reached across, resting a hand near Mayumi’s. “It’s not about never stumbling—it’s about not giving up. That’s what Paul’s getting at, and it’s what Jesus is shaping in us, void or not.”

These regular sessions balanced tactical precision with introspection, a steady anchor they relied on as much as their drills kept them sharp. Unspoken conflicts aired out here couldn’t fester into dysfunction—or worse.

Beyond Resupply: A Deeper Need

The Stellar Scout emerged from hyperspace with a faint ripple, its hull shimmering briefly as it transitioned back into realspace. Rephidim-5 hung before them, a desolate red sphere marred by jagged canyons and iron-rich dust storms that swirled across its surface. Wade sat in the navigator’s seat, his eyes scanned the tactical display.

“Rephidim-5 Control,” Jay’s voice crackled over the comms, calm and professional. “This is Stellar Scout, Confederation Navy designation RS-1127. Requesting clearance for landing in Hangar Alpha.”

The reply was immediate but tinged with static. “Acknowledged, Stellar Scout. Hangar Alpha is prepared to receive you. Welcome to Rephidim-5.”

Wade glanced at Jay, who was skillfully guiding the ship into the hanger. “Bringing her in slow and steady,” he said, his tone confident and calm.

The Stellar Scout descended through the thin, toxic atmosphere, its hull glowing faintly from reentry friction. The hangar doors below slid open with a mechanical groan, revealing an environmentally controlled space lit by harsh industrial lights. The ship settled onto the deck with a soft thud, its landing struts giving slightly as they rested on the reinforced floor.

“Touchdown complete,” Jay reported briskly. “Atmospheric seals engaged in the hangar.”

“Good work,” Wade said as he rose from his seat. “Let’s get this resupply done. We’ve got a schedule to keep.”

The airlock hissed open, and the crew emerged, clad in full Marine armor.

The resupply operation was a well-rehearsed ballet of logistics. Water tanks were refilled, ration crates were uploaded, and fuel cells were replaced. The settlers of Rephidim-5, a hardy but weary group of pioneers and misfits, assisted in the process, their faces gaunt and weathered. But beneath the surface of cooperation, Kristen sensed a simmering resentment. They moved with a sluggishness that spoke of suppressed frustration, their gazes lingering on the Scout with a mixture of envy and accusation.

Kristen noticed an older woman, her face etched with lines of hardship, watching them with a mixture of hope and apprehension. The woman approached her hesitantly, her voice raspy and cracking.

“Are you with the Navy?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Kristen replied. “We’re here to resupply.”

The woman nodded slowly, her eyes scanning the crates being loaded. “We’ve been waiting a long time for our own resupply. Supplies are low, morale is even lower.” She paused, her gaze searching Kristen’s. “Tell me, Ensign…do you think anyone back in the Confederation even remembers we’re out here?”

Kristen met her gaze steadily, her voice filled with conviction. “Yes, ma’am. We remember. And we won’t forget.”

The woman managed a wan smile, but it quickly faded. “Remembering isn’t enough, Ensign. We’re feeding your war effort while our children go hungry.” Her voice hardened, the earlier hope replaced by a weary anger. “Why should we sacrifice for a Confederation that barely acknowledges our existence?”

Kristen recognized the desperation in the woman’s words. “Ma’am, I understand your frustration. We’re not blind to the sacrifices you’re making. We’re here to help, and we want to ensure you get what you need.” Kristen paused, choosing her words carefully. “Perhaps we can discuss how to better allocate the resources we have. I’m confident we can find a solution that addresses your immediate needs while still fulfilling our mission.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, suspicion clouding her features. “What do you know about our needs? You come and go in your fancy ship, while we’re stuck here scratching out a living on this dustball.”

Kristen took a step closer, her voice low and sincere. “I may not know everything, but I’m willing to listen. I think the way to solve our problems is by tackling them head on and really caring about people. And more than that, I have a deep faith that there is a God that cares about each and every person on this planet.”

The woman’s expression softened slightly, intrigued by Kristen’s words. “A God that cares? What makes you say that, Ensign?”

Kristen smiled gently. “Because He has shown me, personally, that He cares. He sent His Son, Jesus, to die for us, to offer us forgiveness and new life. He’s given me hope and strength in the face of challenges, and I believe He can do the same for you.”

Wade, having overheard the conversation, approached with Jay and Mayumi, sensing an opportunity to share their faith.

“It’s true,” Wade said, his voice resonating with conviction. “Before I came to faith, I was driven by duty and vengeance. But God has given me peace and purpose beyond anything I could have imagined. The same can be true for you.”

Mayumi stepped forward, her eyes shining with sincerity. “I used to feel lost and alone, searching for meaning in all the wrong places. But when I found Jesus, I found a love and acceptance that changed everything.”

Jay nodded in agreement. “I always thought I had to earn God’s love. But the truth is, He loved us even when we didn’t love Him. His love is a gift we can’t earn, only receive.”

The woman listened intently, her initial hostility giving way to a flicker of curiosity. “So, this God…what does He want from us?”

Kristen smiled. “He wants a relationship with us. He wants us to turn from our selfish ways and trust Him, to love Him, and to share His love with others. He wants to be our comfort and our strength, especially in times of hardship.”

The woman was silent for a moment, absorbing their words. “I don’t know,” she said finally, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “It sounds too good to be true.”

“I understand your hesitation,” Kristen replied. “But I encourage you to consider it. Read the Scriptures. Pray and ask God to reveal Himself to you. He’s waiting with open arms.”

The woman’s gaze flickered between the crew members, a glimmer of hope beginning to ignite in her eyes. “Maybe…maybe there’s something to this,” she whispered. “Maybe there is a God who cares.”

As the crew prepared to wrap up the resupply and return to their mission schedule, a diagnostic alert interrupted their plans. Mayumi, running a final systems check on the F-290 Scout, discovered microfractures in the gravitic coil—a critical cylindrical module laced with rare-earth superconductors that stabilized hyperspace transitions. The damage, likely caused by navigating through the corrosive dust in the atmosphere, made safe hyperspace travel impossible. With no replacement coil available on the remote planet, the team requisitioned one from the nearest supply depot, a week’s journey away. The delay, though frustrating, felt providential to the crew, offering a chance to deepen their connection with the settlers.

The team’s excitement surged at the opportunity to disciple the new believers during this unexpected stay. Kristen, Wade, Jay, and Mayumi saw the week as a divine opening to guide the settlers, whose raw faith and hunger for truth inspired them. They eagerly planned nightly Scripture studies and prayer meetings, sharing their own journeys to help the pioneers navigate their newfound faith in this harsh environment. Their enthusiasm peaked as they witnessed the settlers’ bold commitment, especially their willingness to be baptized with precious reclaimed water—a profound act of devotion. The crew felt a renewed sense of purpose, knowing they were planting a spiritual foundation that could sustain Rephidim-5 long after their departure, while also strengthening their own faith. As they prepared to depart, a small church had been planted, the first church of Rephidim-5.

Helping Both Ways

The next day as the crew performed routine maintenance on the Scout, a figure approached. He was a burly man, his face lined with years of hard labor, his eyes carrying a mixture of weariness and authority. He wore a stained mining jumpsuit and a battered helmet hung loosely from his hand. This was Elkiah , the mining boss of Rephidim-5.

“Lieutenant Kovacs?” Elkiah’s voice was gravelly, like the iron ore he oversaw being extracted.

Wade stepped forward, extending a gloved hand. “That’s right. You must be Elkiah .”

Elkiah gripped Wade’s hand firmly. “Aye. I appreciate you comin’ out here. It’s been too long.” He gestured toward a datapad he carried. “I’ve got a list of critical supplies we’re running low on. Things the requisition forms never seem to cover.”

Wade took the datapad and scanned the list. It contained items ranging from replacement drill bits and specialized lubricants to medical supplies not covered in the standard Confederation allotment. “I’ll see what I can do, sir. No promises, but I’ll make sure command knows what you need.”

As Wade spoke with Elkiah, Mayumi discreetly slipped away to a secluded corner of the hangar. She activated her comm device and, using a prearranged code, sent a message to General Redside. The message detailed the dire situation on Rephidim-5 and the specific needs of the mining colony. She ended with a coded request for additional aid, adding a request for Bibles.

One week later, a small transport ship arrived at Rephidim-5, its arrival unannounced. It carried a consignment of the requested supplies, marked as “priority cargo.” Among the crates of drill bits and lubricants was a special delivery: a crate filled with Bibles and Christian literature, courtesy of General Redside’s personal initiative. He included a memorandum that this was the first of several shipments.

The arrival of the supplies and Bibles was met with a joyous celebration among the settlers. The practical aid lifted their spirits, while the spiritual nourishment filled a deep void in their lives. The church that had begun in the woman’s home grew rapidly, drawing in new members each day, eager to learn more about the God who had remembered them.

During the commotion of unloading, Elkiah approached Wade, a grim expression on his face. “Lieutenant, there’s something you need to know.” He led Wade away from the bustling crowd, toward a quieter section of the hangar. “We’ve been shipping iron ore off-world for years, as per our contract with the Confederation. But lately, something’s been off.”

“Off how?” Wade asked, his senses on high alert.

“Some of the shipments aren’t headed back to Confederation space,” Elkiah explained. “They’re going deeper into the void. I’ve been tracking the manifests. There’s a CoreSys freighter, called The Transapora, that’s been diverting its cargo to unknown coordinates. I don’t know what they’re up to, but it can’t be good.”

Wade’s cybernetic hand tightened into a fist. “Do you have The Transapora’s last known trajectory?”

Elkiah nodded, handing Wade another datapad. “Here. I’ve compiled everything I could find. Course, speed, transponder codes… everything.”

Wade studied the data, his mind racing. A rogue freighter diverting strategic resources into the unknown reaches of space… the implications were chilling. “Thank you, Elkiah. This is invaluable.”

As the Stellar Scout prepared for launch, the crew gathered with the settlers for a final farewell. The atmosphere was markedly different from their arrival. The resentment had vanished, replaced by gratitude and a sense of shared purpose. The settlers, their material and spiritual needs being met, beamed with renewed hope. Jay prayed for the crowd who had come to see them off.

“Thank you for everything,” the woman who had first approached Kristen said, her eyes shining with tears. “You brought us more than just supplies. You brought us hope.”

“The pleasure was ours,” Kristen replied, smiling. “God bless you and we’ll keep you in our prayers.”

As preparations for departure began, Wade addressed Elkiah one last time regarding The Transapora.

“We’ll look into this freighter situation,” he assured him. “You’ve done your part; now we’ll do ours.”

Elkiah nodded solemnly before offering his hand again. “Good luck out there… and thanks for everything.”

With a final wave, the crew of the Stellar Scout boarded their ship amidst heartfelt farewells from settlers who now radiated hope instead of despair.

As they launched into orbit and set course toward The Transapora’s last known trajectory, Wade couldn’t help but reflect on how much had changed during their brief time on Rephidim-5—not just for its people but also for himself and his crew.

“Jay,” he said as he settled into the navigator’s chair, “let’s see where this rogue freighter leads us.”

“Aye, sir,” Jay replied confidently as his fingers danced across his console.

And with that, the Stellar Scout surged forward into hyperspace—a lone beacon chasing shadows in humanity’s vast frontier while carrying both truth and faith into uncharted territory.

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

Spit? – #110

ENGLISH / ESPAÑOL

Welcome Back! Today, we’ll be looking at the Gospel of Mark to see how Jesus uses a very unique way to heal a blind man and why He would do something so…unexpected.

So let’s get started.

(Click here to get a copy of the Gospel Sync document)

Mark 8:22–26

When they arrived at Bethsaida, some people brought a blind man and begged Jesus to touch him. So He took the blind man by the hand and led him out of the village. Then He spit on the man’s eyes and placed His hands on him. “Can you see anything?” He asked. The man looked up and said, “I can see the people, but they look like trees walking around.” Once again Jesus placed His hands on the man’s eyes, and when he opened them his sight was restored, and he could see everything clearly. Jesus sent him home and said, “Do not go back into the village.”

My Thoughts

Have you ever prayed and asked God to do something, only for Him to do something totally unexpected?

Imagine you’re reading this for the first time (and maybe some of you are). A blind man is brought to Jesus by “some people.” I hope it was his family or friends, not just some folks wanting to see the “Jesus Freak Show.” Anyways, I digress. There’s great anticipation that the Master is going to do what they’ve all heard about: “Heals the sick, raises the dead, and even casts out demons.”

As the man is brought forward with shaky steps, the crowd goes silent. The blind man’s eyes are lifeless, but his ears are finely tuned out of necessity. He hears “Ptooey”—and spray splashes his eyelids. In shock, he’s thinking to himself, “Did the Healer just spit in my eyes!? Wait! Now He’s rubbing it in with His hands. LIGHT! I CAN SEE LIGHT! And men like trees!”

Jesus places His hands on the man’s eyes again—and he can see clearly. Hallelujah!!!

Wait a minute. Spit!? Yup. Probably the last thing the man, the people, or His disciples expected. And that’s probably where we got the saying, “God works in mysterious ways.” But that’s not the only time God has done something totally unexpected to heal, communicate His grace, or even pass judgment.

The list is long, but my favorite example in the Old Testament is Naaman the Leper. Elisha tells a mighty general of a foreign army to go dip himself seven times in the Jordan River to be healed. The commander is furious, saying that “there are cleaner rivers back home. Why would I go dunk myself in a mudhole like the Jordan—and do that multiple times?” His servants talk some sense into him, and he obeys the prophet’s strange command. He is cleansed and has skin like that of a child!

Was it the Jordan that healed his leprosy? No. Was it the magic number seven? No. It was obedience in faith. And that, my friends, carries a major lesson about our discipleship methods.

I think Jesus healed in multiple different ways for two reasons:

Because the Father told Him to.

Because He didn’t want the method to get in the way of God’s glory—or of the faith and obedience of the recipient.

So be careful not to let your methods hijack either one!

My Story

I was just telling this story to a new friend last night. I was having a very successful career in the Army and one morning, decided to head to a nearby lake and spend some concerted time in prayer. As I was looking across the lake I noticed how full and vibrant the trees were. One tree in particular stood out. It was a bit weirdly shaped and had three distinct branches. The first was moderately full of leaves, the second more and than the third was absolutely exploding with leaves. Then God spoke. Not in an audible voice but clear as day. (For those who have had this happen to you, and there are many, you know what I’m talking about).

God was telling me this was a picture of the fruitfulness of my life. Phase one was now over. I had experienced some fruitfulness and I was very excited about what Jesus was doing in and through Deb and I’s lives. But He was telling me that phase was now ending and I was heading into the second branch. Even more fruit! He was telling me He was going to change my life. It was shortly after that God called me out of the Army to go to college and seminary and then go back into the Army as a chaplain. I definitely didn’t see that one coming! The Holy Spirit uses a weird looking tree to call me into the next fruitful phase of my life. A tree.

Now that wasn’t His last word on the calling. There was confirmation from my Bible reading, answered prayer, wise counsel, and circumstances that lined up. But it all started with the Holy Spirit showing me a vision for what could be through a tree.

Our Action Plan

Now it’s time for application. Here’s some ideas;

Ask those you are discipling, “How has God done something totally unexpected in your life?”
Ask them if they think He does that “unexpected thing” everytime or with everyone.
Ask “What is the crucial lesson that comes from God’s creative ways of speaking and ministering to His people?”

God’s ways are often unexpected, but they always serve a purpose far greater than we can imagine. Whether through spit, a tree, or a muddy river, He calls us to trust Him fully, obey in faith, and let His glory shine through the unconventional.

¿Escupir? – #110

¡Bienvenidos de nuevo! Hoy analizaremos el Evangelio de Marcos para ver cómo Jesús sana a un ciego de una forma tan singular y por qué hizo algo tan… inesperado.

¡Comencemos!

Marcos 8:22-26

Al llegar a Betsaida, trajeron a un ciego y le rogaron a Jesús que lo tocara. Él, tomándolo de la mano, lo sacó del pueblo. Luego, escupió en los ojos del ciego y le impuso las manos. “¿Ves algo?”, le preguntó. El hombre levantó la vista y dijo: “Veo a la gente, pero parecen árboles que caminan”. Jesús volvió a poner las manos sobre los ojos del ciego, y al abrirlos, recuperó la vista y pudo ver todo con claridad. Lo envió a su casa y le dijo: “No vuelvas al pueblo”.

Mis Pensamientos

¿Alguna vez has orado y le has pedido a Dios que haga algo, solo para que Él haga algo totalmente inesperado?

Imagina que estás leyendo esto por primera vez (y quizás algunos de ustedes lo estén haciendo). Un hombre ciego es llevado ante Jesús por “algunas personas”. Espero que hayan sido su familia o amigos, no solo algunos que quieren ver el “Espectáculo de Jesús Freak”. En fin, me estoy desviando del tema. Hay una gran expectación de que el Maestro haga lo que todos han oído: “Sana enfermos, resucita muertos e incluso expulsa demonios”.

Mientras el hombre es llevado al frente con pasos temblorosos, la multitud guarda silencio. Los ojos del ciego están inertes, pero sus oídos están afinados por necesidad. Oye “Ptooey” y el agua salpica sus párpados. En estado de shock, piensa: “¿¡El Sanador me acaba de escupir en los ojos!? ¡Espera! Ahora me lo frota con las manos. ¡LUZ! ¡PUEDO VER LA LUZ! ¡Y los hombres como árboles!”

Jesús vuelve a poner las manos sobre los ojos del hombre, y este puede ver con claridad. ¡Aleluya!

Un momento. ¿¡Escupir!? Sí. Probablemente lo último que el hombre, la gente o sus discípulos esperaban. Y de ahí probablemente viene el dicho: “Dios obra de maneras misteriosas”. Pero esa no es la única vez que Dios ha hecho algo totalmente inesperado para sanar, comunicar su gracia o incluso juzgar.

La lista es larga, pero mi ejemplo favorito del Antiguo Testamento es el de Naamán el leproso. Eliseo le dice a un poderoso general de un ejército extranjero que se sumerja siete veces en el río Jordán para sanar. El comandante se enfurece y dice: “Hay ríos más limpios en casa. ¿Por qué me sumergiría en un charco de lodo como el Jordán, y lo haría varias veces?” Sus sirvientes lo convencen de entrar en razón, y obedece la extraña orden del profeta. ¡Queda limpio y tiene la piel como la de un niño!

¿Fue el Jordán lo que sanó su lepra? No. ¿Fue el mágico número siete? No. Fue la obediencia en la fe. Y eso, amigos míos, nos enseña una lección importante sobre nuestros métodos de discipulado.

Creo que Jesús sanó de muchas maneras diferentes por dos razones:

Porque el Padre se lo ordenó.

Porque no quería que el método interfiriera con la gloria de Dios ni con la fe y la obediencia del receptor.

Así que tengan cuidado de no dejar que sus métodos se apropien de ninguno de los dos.

Mi Historia

Anoche le contaba esta historia a un nuevo amigo. Tenía una carrera muy exitosa en el ejército y una mañana decidí ir a un lago cercano y dedicar un tiempo a la oración. Mientras miraba al otro lado del lago, noté lo frondosos y vibrantes que estaban los árboles. Un árbol en particular destacaba. Tenía una forma un poco extraña y tres ramas distintas. La primera estaba bastante llena de hojas, la segunda más y la tercera estaba completamente llena de hojas. Entonces Dios habló. No con una voz audible, sino con la claridad del día. (Para quienes les haya pasado esto, y hay muchos, saben de qué hablo).

Dios me decía que esto era una imagen de la fecundidad de mi vida. La primera fase ya había terminado. Había experimentado cierta fecundidad y estaba muy emocionado por lo que Jesús estaba haciendo en y a través de la vida de Deb y la mía. Pero Él me decía que esa fase estaba terminando y que me dirigía hacia la segunda rama. ¡Aún más fruto! Me decía que iba a cambiar mi vida. Poco después, Dios me llamó a dejar el ejército para ir a la universidad y al seminario, y luego a regresar al ejército como capellán. ¡Definitivamente no lo vi venir! El Espíritu Santo usa un árbol de aspecto extraño para llamarme a la siguiente etapa fructífera de mi vida. Un árbol.

Esa no fue su última palabra sobre el llamado. Hubo confirmación en mi lectura de la Biblia, oración contestada, consejos sabios y circunstancias que se alinearon. Pero todo comenzó cuando el Espíritu Santo me mostró una visión de lo que podría suceder a través de un árbol.

Nuestro Plan de Acción

Ahora es momento de aplicarlo. Aquí tienes algunas ideas:

Pregúntales a quienes estás discipulando: “¿Cómo ha hecho Dios algo totalmente inesperado en tu vida?”.

Pregúntales si creen que Él hace esa “cosa inesperada” siempre o con todos.

Pregúntales: “¿Cuál es la lección crucial que se desprende de las maneras creativas en que Dios habla y ministra a su pueblo?”.

Los caminos de Dios a menudo son inesperados, pero siempre tienen un propósito mucho mayor del que podemos imaginar. Ya sea a través de saliva, un árbol o un río fangoso, Él nos llama a confiar plenamente en Él, a obedecer con fe y a dejar que su gloria brille a través de lo inusual.

Si ve un problema importante en la traducción, envíeme una corrección por correo electrónico a charleswood1@gmail.com

The Calling – Chapter 29 – Hazards of Our Chosen Profession

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

They will fight against you, but they will not overcome you, for I am with you to deliver you,” declares the LORD.

Jeremiah 1:19

Preparation for Graduation

The mirror in Wade’s quarters reflected a stranger – a Ranger in gleaming powered armor, its titanium-ceramic plates catching the light. The Marine Corps’ iconic anchor and globe insignia was emblazoned on the chest plate, the gold relief standing proud against the iridescent armor coating. His fingers traced the emblem’s raised edge, remembering how that same symbol had once felt impossibly out of reach. Now it sat naturally on his armor, earned through blood, sweat, and more than a few nightmares.

“Your power coupling is misaligned,” Jay announced from the doorway, already suited in his own armor, the servos humming quietly with each movement. He crossed the room and adjusted Wade’s shoulder pauldron with practiced precision. “The field harmonics need to be perfect for the neural interface. Old tradition – supposedly helps sync your movements with the armor’s response systems.”

Wade stood still, letting his friend make the adjustment. “You actually believe that?”

“After everything we’ve seen?” Jay’s helmet lights blinked in amusement. “I believe in being thorough. Speaking of which…” He produced his ragged copy of the Ranger handbook. “Metro’s got a betting pool going on which squad will mess up the Ranger Creed.” They both laughed.

The familiar routine of preparation settled over them, but this time it felt different. This wasn’t like gearing up for a combat drop or a live-fire exercise. Every motion carried the weight of ceremony, of history.

Down the corridor, other Rangers-to-be were going through their own preparations. The usual banter was muted, replaced by a focused intensity. Someone was practicing the creed in a low voice: “Recognizing I volunteered as a Ranger. Fully knowing the hazards of my chosen profession…”

Wade caught fragments of conversations as he walked the halls, his armor’s boots clicking against the deck plating, checking on his platoon one last time as their platoon sergeant:

“Did you hear? General Redside himself is conducting the ceremony—”

“My great-grandfather’s Marine Corps medallion. Been through three planetary campaigns—”

“Make sure your armor’s neural interface is calibrated exactly to—”

On the parade ground, maintenance crews were transforming the open space into something appropriately ceremonial. The battle-scarred dropships had been arranged in a perfect crescent. Each ship’s running lights pulsed in sync, creating a rippling wave of red energy that seemed to echo the heartbeats of the graduating class.

Metro was there, meticulously adjusting the holographic displays that would show their achievements to the assembled dignitaries. “They’re going to play the combat footage,” he said without looking up. “…from the Zoo on Carthis 7. The brass thinks it’ll inspire the next generation.”

Wade watched the silent replay of their most harrowing moment, now sanitized and edited for ceremony. The footage showed their squad moving through the twisted architecture of the Skravak nest, plasma rifles blasting, armor covered in the black fluid of their alien prey. The recording couldn’t capture the acidic stench of the nest, the way the ground seemed to pulse beneath their feet, or how time seemed to stretch and compress. But maybe that was the point of graduation – to transform raw experience into something that was a little more patriotic and inspire future recruits.

The chronometer above the barracks doors counted down the minutes until the ceremony. With each passing minute, the air seemed to grow thicker with anticipation. This wasn’t just about getting a Ranger Tab. This was about becoming part of something larger than themselves – a lineage of Rangers who had pushed back the boundaries of known space, who had faced the impossible and found ways to survive it.

Wade made one final check of his armor’s systems in the reflection of a viewport. Beyond the reinforced glass, Rinart 3’s earthlike landscape. A fresh rainfall created a rainbow arch over the graduation grounds. With God rays piercing the clouds. It seemed fitting – The Creator’s artwork giving approval to their endeavor to bring peace in His creation.

Now they stood ready to cross that final threshold, not as individuals but as Rangers. The tab they would ware wasn’t just protection – it was a promise to face the unknown, to push beyond the comfortable boundaries of human experience, to explore not just space but the very limits of human potential.

“Time check,” Jay announced, his voice carrying the same precision he used in the cockpit.

“Thirty minutes to formation,” Metro confirmed, his armor’s status lights glowing steady green.

Wade nodded, feeling the familiar weight of leadership settle onto his shoulders. This time, though, it wasn’t about leading them through danger or uncertainty. It was about leading them into their future, walking worthy of the tab they had earned to wear and uphold their Spartan tradition.

“Well then,” he said, cradling his helmet in the crook of his arm, “Let’s not keep the universe waiting.”

Unexpected Attendees

The parade ground buzzed with a flurry of unexpected faces, each one representing a chapter in their grueling journey. General Redside, who had been more than just a commanding officer – a constant guardian and mentor throughout their transformation – stood tall and proud, his decorated uniform gleaming in the morning sun. He took his place next to the Ranger School Commandant and Sergeant Major, his weathered face betraying a hint of paternal pride as he prepared to give his honorary remarks.

As the formation executed their precise movements in front of the gathered guests, Wade’s eyes swept across the crowd, his heart thundering against his ribcage when he spotted them – Admiral Kitzler, his presence commanding as ever, and Mrs. Kitzler, soft and looking as proud as a natural mother would be of her son. And beside her… Kristen! She stood there in a blue dress that caught the morning light, her radiant smile and unwavering gaze speaking volumes of the sleepless nights, the endless worry, and most importantly, her unshakeable love and faith in him. The sight of her nearly brought him to his knees, even in formation. “But how in the world…” His thoughts were interrupted by reminding himself he was in a parade.

Next to Kristen, arm in arm with a quiet dignity that seemed to radiate from within, stood Lieutenant Mayumi Kato. Her usual intelligent smile played across her features, but today it was softened with an almost maternal pride as she nodded respectfully towards Wade. Her presence represented the bridge between his past and future, a reminder of the path that had led him here. He knew Jay would be thrilled she made the trek to Rinart 3.

The shock of seeing his people, these pillars of his life gathered in one place, sent waves of emotion crashing through his chest, almost overwhelming his carefully maintained military bearing.

Metro’s wife stood nearby, her hands clasped tightly in front of her dress, her presence a living testament to the countless sacrifices made by all military families. The quiet strength in her bearing, the subtle way she held herself, spoke of lonely nights, delayed dinners, and unwavering support through countless deployments. Metro’s posture subtly shifted when their eyes met across the parade ground – he stood a little taller, his shoulders squaring just a fraction more, drawing strength from their silent exchange.

As the ceremony began in earnest, Wade felt a surge of emotion that threatened to break through his professional façade. These people – his mentors who had pushed him beyond his limits, his loved ones who had believed in him even when he doubted himself, his brothers and sisters in arms who had bled and suffered alongside him – had all played crucial roles in sculpting him into the Ranger he had become. Their presence here, at this moment of triumph, transformed what was already a significant achievement into something profound and deeply personal.

Metro gave the command for the platoon to halt and face the grandstand. With a crisp salute he report 56 Rangers of the 200 who had started were present and accounted for. The Commandant returned his salute and a familiar face stepped to the podium, Chaplain Bronson! He gave a short but powerful invocation and thanked Jesus Christ for the strength He had given these warriors. Wade was so taken back, he forgot to bow his head and Bronson said Amen, he gave a proud nod to Wade and took his seat next to the Sergeant Major. Redside adjusted the microphone and grasped the podium like he was confidently wrestling a lion. His remarks were mercifully short.

Redside stepped forward in front of the formation, holding the compact laser embosser with reverence. The metallic device hummed with technological sophistication, its weight representing the gravity of the moment. With careful movements that spoke of years of tradition, he positioned the device against the left shoulder of Wade’s armor, then Jay’s. The high-intensity beam triggered with a soft whine, cutting through the morning air with its sharp burst of yellow light. The crisp, permanent mark it left behind wasn’t just a symbol – it was a physical manifestation of their transformation, their suffering, their triumph. The Ranger tab now etched into their armor would forever remind them of this moment, of these people, and of the warriors they had become.

As the ceremony drew to a close, the formal atmosphere dissolved into a sea of congratulations, firm handshakes, and heartfelt embraces. Proud families surged forward, photos taken, and the air filled with laughter and well-wishes for the future. But for Wade, the crowd seemed to fade away, his focus narrowing to a single point – Kristen.

He moved through the throng with purpose, his newly-embossed Ranger tab catching the sunlight on his shoulder. When he reached her, his movements became deliberately gentle, conscious of the hard edges of his combat armor as he drew her into an embrace. Kristen melted into his arms despite the rigid plates between them, her fingers finding purchase on the familiar contours of his gear.

“I knew you would come back,” she whispered against his chest, her voice thick with emotion. “We had a promise. God made us a promise. I knew you would come back for me.” The words carried the weight of countless nights of prayer, of unwavering faith tested but never broken.

Wade gently eased her to arm’s length, his gloved hands resting lightly on her shoulders. He looked deep into her eyes, finding there all the strength and love that had sustained him through the darkest moments of his training. In that gaze was their shared past and their promised future, every prayer spoken, every moment of separation that had led to this reunion.

“Always,” he said simply, the word carrying the weight of an oath.

Then he pulled her close once more, feeling her warmth even through his armor, standing as an anchor in the swirling celebration around them. In that moment, the newly etched Ranger tab on his shoulder felt like more than just a symbol of military achievement – it was a promise kept, a path that had led him back to her, just as he’d sworn it would.

Secret Recon Mission

After the pomp and circumstance of graduation, Wade, Kristen, Jay, and Mayumi were ushered into a private briefing room. General Redside and Admiral Kitzler stood at the head of the table, their faces serious.

Redside spoke in measured tones. “Congratulations on your graduation,” he began. “But I’m afraid the real work is just beginning. And you won’t be going to the Ranger Regiment anytime soon. I’ve chosen you all for a top-secret reconnaissance mission of utmost importance to the Confederation.”

Wade and Jay stood stunned.

The room fell silent as the gravity of his words sank in. Redside continued, outlining a dangerous mission deep into uncharted space, where intelligence suggested a path to the origins of the Skravak “aliens” and the roots of the conspiracy.

“You’ll start with this mining operation and follow the breadcrumbs to their origins. Your unique skills and experiences make you the ideal team for this mission,” Redside explained. “We need your expertise in tactics, your advanced piloting skills, psychological and photographic memories and your technical expertise.”

Suddenly Wade realizes Redside is not just talking about him and Jay. He included Mayumi and Kristen. It was hard for him to contain the confusion and concern.

As the briefing progressed, Wade noticed Kristen’s quiet confidence. It was then that Redside dropped another bombshell.

“Dr. Kitzler,” he addressed Kristen, “your father and I have discussed your exceptional abilities, and we believe you’re ready for this. Do you accept this mission and the rank that comes with it?”

Kristen stood tall. “I do, sir.”

In a brief but meaningful ceremony, Kristen was sworn in as a Navy Ensign. Wade’s chest swelled with pride for her but was completely confused by what was happening.

The Revelation

As General Redside finished administering the oath and lowered his right hand, he turned to Wade and Jay. Something in the General’s demeanor – a barely concealed smile playing at the corners of his mouth – suggested this wasn’t standard operating procedure.

“Gentlemen,” he began, his voice pitched low enough that only they could hear, “I believe I owe you an explanation about our unexpected guest.” His eyes flickered briefly toward Kristen.

The two men remained silent, but their postures shifted subtly – Wade’s spine straightening, Jay’s head tilting slightly as if to better catch every word.

“It’s quite remarkable, really,” Redside continued, settling into the rhythm of his story. “After your ‘death,’ Kovacs, we thought we had every loose end tied up. Every base covered.” He gave a rueful shake of his head. “We didn’t count on Dr. Kitzler’s… persistence.”

A knowing smile crossed Wade’s face before he could suppress it. Kristen had always been like a dog with a bone when something didn’t add up.

“First came the questions,” Redside said, his voice taking on an almost admiring tone. “Small ones at first – inconsistencies in the official report, discrepancies in the timeline. But they grew. Evolved. Soon she was constructing elaborate psychological profiles, probability matrices…” He paused, letting out a short laugh. “She even cornered me in my own office – twice.”

The General’s expression sobered. “But it was her presentation to Admiral Kitzler that truly changed everything. Her own father, mind you. She walked into his office with a three-inch binder full of evidence suggesting you were alive, Kovacs. Evidence that, quite frankly, was disturbingly accurate.”

Wade felt his chest tighten. He could picture Kristen, fierce and determined, fighting for what she believed in. It was one of the things he’d always loved about her.

“The Admiral was impressed, naturally. But bringing a civilian into a secure operation of this sensitivity?” Redside spread his hands. “Unprecedented doesn’t begin to cover it.”

He began to pace, three steps one way, three steps back. “That’s when she surprised us all. Offered to accept a direct commission into the Navy. Said her psychiatric expertise and her…” he glanced at Wade, “personal insights could prove invaluable to the mission.”

Jay let out a low whistle. Wade stood frozen, processing the implications.

“We had a choice to make,” Redside continued. “Continue the charade and risk pushing away someone who’d already pieced together most of the puzzle, or… bring this amazing woman on the team.”

Redside looked at Wade, “And once I told her about your cockamamie plan to go to ranger school so you could stay in the fight…and get back to her, she was all the more resolved.”

The General stopped pacing and faced them squarely. “I want you both to understand something. Dr. Kitzler didn’t just stumble into this position. She fought for it. Earned it. And given what we’re up against with this Skravak situation, her insights could be the edge we need.”

Wade felt the weight of the moment settle over him like a physical thing. Kristen hadn’t just waited for him – she’d fought her way through bureaucracy, protocol, and military hierarchy to stand beside him. The mission ahead suddenly seemed both more complex and more promising.

“Sir,” he finally managed, his voice rough with emotion, “what are our next steps?”

Redside gave Wade and Jay a rueful grin. “In the past I offered you both battlefield commissions to Lieutenant. And you both turned me down. You don’t have a choice this time. You are both here by promoted to 2nd lieutenant and I don’t want to hear any quibbling. Is that clear?”

Wade and Jay exchanged a glance before respectfully accepting.

Redside had them raise their right hands and administered the oath.

“Thank you, sir,” Wade said, “We won’t let you down.”

Redside nodded, a hint of approval in his eyes. “Very well. Your mission begins in 48 hours. You’ll be briefed in greater detail on the ISC Dominion and fully kitted out. It’s a short fuse so no time for a honeymoon.”

The four looked at each other with some amusement.

Vows Among the Stars

As the briefing concluded, Admiral Kitzler stepped forward and Sarah Kitzler was ushered into the briefing room. “Before you embark on this mission, there’s one more order of business.” The Admiral smiled, a rare sight that transformed his usually stern face. “I believe we have some vows to exchange.”

In a scene that seemed almost surreal, Admiral Kitzler performed a double wedding ceremony right there in the briefing room. Wade and Kristen stood hand in hand, their eyes locked in a gaze of pure love and commitment. Beside them, Jay and Mayumi mirrored their pose, their own journey of love having blossomed in the midst of war and uncertainty.

As Wade recited his vows, he felt a profound sense of peace wash over him. This moment, this union, was a testament to his journey of faith. From the lost and broken teenager he had once been to the man standing here now, he could see God’s hand guiding him every step of the way.

“I, Wade, take you, Kristen, to be my lawfully wedded wife. Before God and these witnesses, I vow to love you, protect you, and stand by your side through whatever challenges we may face. In war and in peace, in danger and in safety, my heart is yours, now and always.”

Kristen’s voice was steady as she repeated her own vows, her eyes shining with unshed tears of joy. As Admiral Kitzler pronounced them husband and wife, Wade felt as if his heart might burst with happiness.

The vows recited by Jay and Mayumi were equally moving, their love a beacon of hope in the uncertain future that lay ahead.

New Lives, New Mission

As the newlyweds prepared to board the Stellar-Scout, the gravity of their mission settled over them. They were embarking on a journey into the unknown, facing dangers that they could scarcely imagine. Yet, as Wade looked at Kristen, at Jay and Mayumi, at the friends and family gathered to see them off, he felt a surge of hope.

“Ready for our next adventure, Mrs. Kovacs?” he asked, squeezing Kristen’s hand.

She smiled up at him, her eyes full of love and determination. “Always, Mr. Kovacs.”

With a final wave to their loved ones, the two couples boarded the Stellar-Scout. As the ship’s engines hummed to life, Jay took his place at the controls, Wade beside him. They exchanged a look of understanding – whatever lay ahead, they would face it together.

The Stellar-Scout lifted off, carrying with it not just four elite warriors, but four hearts full of love, faith, and hope for the future. As Rinart 3 faded into the distance, Wade offered a silent prayer of thanks and protection. Their journey was far from over – in fact, it was just beginning.

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

Head on a swivel! – #109

ENGLISH / ESPAÑOL

Welcome Back! Today, we’ll be looking at the Gospels of Matthew and Mark to hear Jesus’ warning about the ambushes the leaders of His day walked into.

So let’s get started.

(Click here to get a copy of the Gospel Sync document)

Matthew 16:5–12, Mark 8:14–21

When they crossed to the other side, the disciples forgot to take bread, except for one loaf they had with them in the boat. “Watch out!” Jesus cautioned them. “Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees, Sadducees, and of Herod.” So they began to discuss with one another the fact that they had no bread. They concluded, “It is because we did not bring any bread.”

Aware of their conversation, Jesus said, “You of little faith, why are you debating among yourselves about having no bread? Do you still not understand? Do you have such hard hearts? ‘Having eyes, do you not see? And having ears, do you not hear?’ Do you not remember the five loaves for the five thousand. When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many basketfuls of broken pieces did you collect?” “Twelve,” they answered. “And when I broke the seven loaves for the four thousand, how many basketfuls of broken pieces did you collect?” “Seven,” they said. How do you not understand that I was not telling you about bread? But beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees.” Then they understood that He was not telling them to beware of the leaven used in bread, but of the teaching of the Pharisees and Sadducees.