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“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.
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