Tag: fantasy

Chapter 27 – Florida Phase

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

Save me, O God, For the waters have threatened my life. I have sunk in deep mire, and there is no foothold; I have come into deep waters, and a flood overflows me. I am weary with my crying; my throat is parched; My eyes fail while I wait for my God.

Psalm 69:1-3

The Swamps

A bitter wind whipped across the Florida swamps as Wade, Jay, and Metro inserted into their dropzone. The frigid air caught them off guard – this wasn’t the balmy weather they’d expected from the panhandle. Their boots sank into the dark water, each step releasing bubbles of swamp gas that carried the scent of decay. As they began their five-day platoon operation, the cold crept beneath their wet uniforms, numbing fingers and clouding thoughts. The weight of their rucksacks seemed to increase with every passing hour, the straps digging into shoulders already raw from weeks of constant wear.

Wade and Jay found their rhythm quickly, their mountain phase experience serving them well. The endless hours spent navigating steep terrain had taught them to read the land, to find the path of least resistance even in this alien environment. They passed their patrols in the first two days, demonstrating the leadership and tactical prowess that had carried them this far. Each successful mission brought them closer to the tab they’d fought so hard to earn, their movements growing more confident with each passing hour.

Metro watched his friends lead, studying their techniques, waiting for his own chance to prove himself. He made mental notes of how Wade handled his troops, how Jay managed the tactical challenges that arose. The swamp seemed to resist their every move, but Metro remained determined, pushing through the discomfort with gritted teeth and steely resolve.

On the third day, the swamp seemed to come alive with malice. The water had turned to ice in their canteens, and the wind cut through their wet uniforms like razor blades. Each step brought a new challenge – hidden roots that threatened to snap ankles, sucking mud that tried to claim boots, the bone-deep chill that refused to relent. The platoon moved in silence, save for the occasional splash or muffled curse as someone lost their footing.

Hypothermia

Metro’s movements grew sluggish, his normally sharp eyes taking on a glazed look. Wade noticed first, seeing how his Ranger Buddy’s steps had become uncertain, how his responses to simple commands had slowed. Before he could intervene, Metro crumpled into the murky water, his body temperature plummeting to dangerous levels. The speed of his collapse shocked everyone – one moment he was trudging along with the rest of them, the next he was face-down in the swamp, his rifle half-submerged beside him.

“Medevac! Now!” Sergeant Hunt’s command cut through the swamp’s oppressive silence. His voice carried the weight of urgent authority, spurring the platoon into immediate action. As one of the students radioed for evacuation, Wade and Jay huddled around their fallen friend, their hearts pounding with fear they couldn’t afford to show. The rest of the platoon established a defensive perimeter, their training taking over despite their concern for their fellow Ranger.

Wade and Jay placed their hands on Metro’s shoulders and bowed their heads in prayer, just as they had during the mountain phase. Their whispered words seemed to carry through the chaos of the emergency response, a quiet counterpoint to the urgent radio traffic and Hunt’s rapid-fire orders. The cold seemed to intensify around them, as if the swamp itself was trying to claim Metro for its own.

Miraculous Healing

Then, like a scene from a revival tent, Metro’s eyes fluttered open. Color flooded back into his pale cheeks, starting as a faint pink and deepening to healthy warmth. He sat up, looking dazed but alert – a transformation so sudden it left even the hardened Sergeant Hunt speechless. The change defied medical explanation, but none could deny what they’d witnessed. Despite Metro’s miraculous recovery, Hunt insisted on protocol: “Still getting you checked out, Ranger. No exceptions out here.”

The platoon watched as Metro was evacuated, their faces showing a mixture of relief and lingering concern. Hunt used the moment as a teaching opportunity, gathering the Rangers for a quick class on cold weather injuries and the importance of buddy checks. The lesson was hardly necessary – seeing one of their own go down had driven the point home more effectively than any instruction could have.

At the infirmary, the Physician Assistant ran every test available, his confusion growing with each normal result. There was no trace of the hypothermia that should have put Metro in serious danger, no indication of the severe exposure that everyone had witnessed. The medical staff exchanged puzzled looks as they reviewed the results, unable to explain the rapid recovery.

When he rejoined Wade and Jay, Metro’s familiar grin had returned, though it couldn’t quite hide the lingering fatigue in his eyes. “Should’ve asked for half a healing,” he quipped, adjusting his gear. “A warm hospital bed wouldn’t have been so bad.” The joke broke the tension, drawing tired laughs from his friends, but they all knew how close they’d come to losing one of their own to the merciless swamp.

Communion in the Chaos

Back at Camp Rudder, the brief respite between operations drew the Rangers to an unexpected source of comfort – the chaplain’s service. The gathering was a stark portrait of Ranger School’s toll: gaunt faces, hollow eyes, bodies pushed far beyond normal limits. These were no longer the cocky Marines who’d started the course; exhaustion and challenge had stripped away all pretense, leaving only the raw essence of who they were.

The chapel itself was little more than a cleared space with folding chairs, but it felt like sanctuary to the weary Rangers. Many dozed off during the service, their bodies taking advantage of any chance to rest, but Wade and Jay remained alert, their recent experience with Metro still fresh in their minds. The chaplain moved among them as he spoke, his voice carrying to every corner of the room, speaking of Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness.

He drew parallels to their own trials, speaking of hunger, exhaustion, and temptation. His words about using faith as a weapon against adversity resonated deeply with the assembled Rangers, at least the ones who were still awake. Each of them had faced their own demons during the course – moments of doubt, anger, and despair that tested not just their bodies but their spirits.

When communion came, the visual struck them all – their blackened, bleeding hands reaching for pure white wafers, dipping them in blood-red wine. The metaphor wasn’t subtle: purity meeting wretchedness, sacrifice meeting need. The Rangers moved forward one by one, each lost in their own thoughts, their own prayers. Some had tears in their eyes, though whether from exhaustion or emotion, none could say.

Droning Out

The final operation loomed before them – an 18-kilometer movement to assault an objective. Wade carried a secret: Sergeant Hunt had pulled him aside earlier, hinting at possible Distinguished Honor Graduate selection. This patrol would decide it, would determine if Wade had truly distinguished himself among his peers. But Wade kept quiet when his friends asked, deflecting with vague assurances about Hunt’s support for them all. The weight of potential honor sat uneasily on his shoulders, adding to the burden of leadership he already carried.

The march tested them in ways that made previous challenges seem mild in comparison. The cold returned with a vengeance, turning their uniforms into frozen shells that cracked with every movement. Exhaustion, hunger, and relentless terrain conspired to strip away coherent thought. Wade found himself leading his platoon in circles, lost in a hypothermic haze, until a Ranger Instructor had to take control. The night became a blur of stumbling steps and mumbled commands, each Ranger pushing forward on nothing but stubborn will and ingrained training.

The raid that followed was a lesson in humility. Confusion reigned as sleep-deprived Rangers struggled to maintain tactical coherence. Communications broke down, positions were missed, and friendly fire incidents peppered the operation. Their opponent, comprised of well-rested instructors, exploited every mistake with professional efficiency. What should have been a coordinated assault devolved into a series of disjointed actions, each team struggling to accomplish their part of the mission without clear understanding of the overall situation.

In the harsh debrief that followed, Wade knew his shot at Distinguished Honor Graduate had evaporated like morning mist over the swamp. But as he stood with Jay and Metro, listening to the instructors outline their failures, he felt something stronger than disappointment: brotherhood forged in shared struggle, hardened by common trial. The instructors’ words were sharp, but their eyes held understanding – they had all been where these Rangers were, had all faced the moment when exhaustion overcame training.

The Florida Phase had tested them in ways they never expected, forcing them to confront not just physical limitations, but the deeper questions of faith, leadership, and resilience. As they prepared for their final evaluation at the Zoo, they carried with them lessons learned in prayer and pain, in failure and friendship. The swamp had tried to break them, had nearly succeeded more than once, but they had emerged stronger, more humble, and more united than ever before.

Back to the Zoo

The transport that would carry them to their final challenge waited on the landing pad, its engines humming with promise and threat. As they boarded, each Ranger carried not just their physical gear, but the weight of experience earned in the merciless Florida swamps. They had learned that sometimes victory meant simply enduring, that leadership often meant admitting weakness, and that faith could manifest in ways that defied explanation. These were lessons that would serve them well in the challenges ahead, both at the Zoo and in the wider war that awaited them.

The interplanetary transport carved through the void of space, its hull vibrating with the nervous energy of its passengers. They would spend three days of recovery at Ramsey Station – days filled with hot meals and actual beds and then the Ranger students faced their final crucible: a platoon-sized live fire exercise in the heart of Carthis 7’s notorious “Zoo.” The name itself carried weight, spoken in whispers by veterans who’d survived its horrors.

Wade stood at rigid parade rest on the observation deck, his reflection ghostlike in the reinforced viewport. Below, Carthis 7 grew from a distant orb to a scarred monster of a world. Its surface told stories of endless conflict – impact craters from orbital bombardments, the twisted wreckage of alien war machines, and the ever-shifting ruins of what had once been thriving colonies. Beside him, Jay maintained his characteristic stoic demeanor, but Wade noticed the subtle tells of tension: the slight clench of his jaw, the tightening around his eyes, the way his fingers occasionally brushed the grip of his rifle.

The ship’s internal atmosphere recyclers hummed a constant backdrop to scattered conversations – each Ranger sharing Zoo stories with each other, tactical officers reviewing mission parameters, medical staff checking emergency protocols. The air felt thick with anticipation and barely contained fear.

“Gear up, ladies and gentlemen,” Sergeant Major Vickers’ command cut through the murmur like a plasma round through armor. “We touch down in five.” His voice carried the weight of experience – he’d survived the Zoo more times than most of the instructors combined. The cargo bay transformed into organized chaos as Rangers donned their cutting-edge combat armor, each piece a testament to humanity’s determination to survive in this hostile universe.

Metro worked with methodical precision at his communications gear, his new role as Radio Telephone Operator (RTO) demanding nothing less than perfection. He triple-checked every frequency, every backup system, every emergency protocol. In the Zoo, a failed comm link could mean more than mission failure – it could mean wholesale slaughter. The responsibility sat heavily on his shoulders, but his hands remained steady as they danced across the control panel and rest of his equipment.

The distinctive whir of armor servos filled the bay as Wade secured his final clasps. A hand landed on his shoulder – firm, confident. Captain Reynolds stood before him, the veteran Ranger Instructor’s face bearing scars from his own Zoo encounters. “Remember, Ranger Kovacs,” he said, voice pitched low but intense. “The principles you learned in the swamps and mountains back home apply just as much here. The tech may be state of the art, but leadership is leadership. Keep your head on straight, and bring your people home.”

Wade met his gaze steadily. “Yes, sir!” Two simple words carrying the weight of everything they’d learned, everything they’d survived to reach this point.

No More Blanks

The landing was surprisingly gentle for such a massive vessel, barely a shudder running through the deck plates as they touched down on Carthis 7’s reinforced landing pad. Camp Ramsey’s briefing room awaited them – a fortified bunker that had sheltered decades of Ranger classes. Wade gathered his platoon, their faces illuminated by the holographic tactical displays showing their target zone.

“Listen up, Rangers.” His voice carried the authority earned through months of training and trials. “We’ve got 12 hours to plan and rehearse before we hit our objective. We’ll be doing a Crazy-D insertion, landing 100 meters from the target.” The term ‘Crazy-D’ drew reactions – raised eyebrows, sharp intakes of breath. The Directed Descent insertion pods were notorious for their effectiveness and their brutality on the human body.

Metro’s eyebrow arched. “Crazy-D? That’s going to be one heck of a ride.” His voice carried a mix of professional concern and barely concealed excitement.

“You got that right,” Wade confirmed, turning to Jay. “I’ll need your squad ready for immediate suppression as soon as we hit ground. Those first thirty seconds will make or break us.” Jay nodded, already running scenarios in his head, calculating fields of fire and support positions.

The next twelve hours dissolved into intense preparation. The platoon immersed themselves in intelligence reports, studying satellite imagery that showed the ever-shifting landscape of the Zoo. They analyzed terrain models, marking kill zones and likely ambush points. Every scenario was run, every contingency planned for, every possible failure point identified and addressed.

Urban combat was challenging enough – but in the Zoo, it became a nightmare of alien aggression and hostile biology. Bombed out buildings held their own cruel danger for the careless, streets that might suddenly become death traps, and an enemy that understood the terrain with a home field advantage. The Rangers adapted their Earth-learned tactics, modern tech, and incorporating hard-won knowledge from previous Zoo experiences.

As insertion time approached, Wade gathered his platoon for final instructions. The briefing room had grown quiet, charged with pre-mission tension. “Remember your training,” he said, meeting each pair of eyes in turn. “Keep your tactical intervals, watch your sectors, and keep comms clear. We hit hard and fast. Questions.” The silence that answered him spoke volumes – they were ready, as ready as humans could be for what awaited them.

The Crazy-D drop lived up to its reputation. Each impact felt like a controlled crash, the compensation systems barely managing to keep the occupants conscious as they slammed into Carthis 7’s surface. Hatches hissed open to reveal the Zoo in all its terrible glory – a maze of broken buildings and twisted metal under an alien sky, the air itself seeming to pulse with malevolent energy.

Wade’s mind raced through final mission checks as his platoon deployed with practiced precision. Their objective burned in his thoughts: a suspected Skravak nest, buried deep in the urban wasteland. Intelligence suggested a major hive, one that had to be eliminated before it could spread further.

“Alright, listen up!” His voice carried across the assembly area, cutting through the last whispers of conversation. “We move out in five minutes. Jay, you’re on point. Metro, stick close – I need that comms link rock solid. The rest of you know your roles. Stay frosty, watch your sectors, and remember your training. Let’s show these bugs what the Confederation’s finest are made of.” The responding “Oorah!” echoed off broken walls, a sound of human defiance in this alien territory.

The Tactical Advantage

Their advance through the Zoo’s labyrinthine streets set every nerve on edge. The silence felt wrong, broken only by the crunch of debris under armored boots and distant, inhuman screams that set teeth on edge. Wade’s enhanced HUD constantly updated with tactical data – squad positions, vital signs, threat assessments. Every step could trigger an ambush, every shadow could hide death.

The attack came without warning. “Contact front!” The call crackled through comms an instant before pulse rifles opened up, their distinctive whine mixing with the alien shrieks of their targets. Wade’s training took over, his voice steady as he coordinated the response to the Skravak ambush. The firefight transformed into a deadly dance of plasma bolts and alien hungry maws snapping at Rangers moving with mechanical precision through their practiced maneuvers.

“Jay! Take second squad and flank left!” Wade’s orders cut through the chaos of battle. “Metro! I need air support on these coordinates—danger close!” Metro’s fingers flew across his comm panel, relaying the call for fire support with practiced efficiency. Moments later, the sky erupted as orbiting Thunderhawk gunships responded, their heavy weapons turning Skravak positions into craters of molten rock and alien gore.

The battle seemed to last forever, a constant push deeper into enemy territory. Wade lost count of how many times he’d called for fire support, how many times he’d redirected squads to shore up weak points in their advance. Through it all, Jay remained their anchor, his steady presence and accurate fire providing the stability they needed as chaos threatened to overwhelm them.

As they approached their primary objective – a massive structure of twisted metal and faracrete rubble that housed the Skravak nest – Wade felt ice form in his gut. The resistance had been fierce, but something in his battle-honed instincts screamed that worse was coming. The building itself seemed to pulse with malevolent life, its half-collapsed form a monument to the horrors that awaited within.

“All units, this is Rock Six,” he broadcast across the platoon net, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his system. “We’re approaching the target building – expect heavy resistance! Jay, get your squad in overwatch positions! Everyone else, prepare to breach and clear on my mark.”

What followed was pure combat chaos, a blur of violence and instinct. Wade led the charge into the alien hive, grateful for every punishing hour spent in Earth’s swamps and mountains. The leadership principles drilled into them became lifelines, allowing him to direct his forces through the fog of war with decisive clarity. Every lesson learned, every hardship endured, every prayer uttered – all of it culminated in these crucial moments.

When silence finally fell, Wade stood in the heart of the destroyed hive, chest heaving in his armor. Around him, Rangers moved with professional efficiency, securing the area, tending to the wounded, documenting their kills. They had done it – eliminated the Skravak nest without losing a single Ranger. The mission was an unqualified success, a testament to their training and determination.

Outside the shattered husk of the hive, Wade felt pride surge through him as he looked over his platoon. They had faced humanity’s nightmare and emerged victorious, their bonds forged stronger than ever in the fires of combat. Staff Sergeant Hunt’s gruff voice cut through their moment of triumph: “Outstanding work, Rangers. You’ve proven yourselves worthy of the tab. But don’t get cocky – this was just a taste of what real combat holds.”

Hunt’s words brought a sobering silence. Wade exchanged glances with Jay and Metro, seeing his own mix of pride and grim determination reflected in their eyes. They had earned their place among the Rangers, but this was just the beginning.

The transport ride back to Earth buzzed with excited discussion about what lay ahead – advanced exploration training, flight school, and most headed to assignments in the various Ranger Regiments leveraging their skills in the ongoing war against the Skravak threat. Wade settled into his seat, mind racing with possibilities as Carthis 7 shrank behind them. He allowed himself a small smile, knowing they had survived the Zoo and emerged stronger. The road ahead would be hard, but they would face it together, as brothers in arms forged in the fires of Earth and tempered in the alien battlefields of distant worlds.

Their Ranger tabs would mean more than just completing a school now – they represented humanity’s determination to survive, to push back against the darkness that threatened their species. Whatever challenges the galaxy held in store, they were ready to face them, one mission at a time.

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

Chapter 26 – Mountain Phase

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

“I will raise my eyes to the mountains; from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. He will not allow your foot to slip; He who watches over you will not slumber.”

 Psalm 121:1-3

High Highs & Low Lows

The crunch of boots against frozen earth echoed through the pre-dawn darkness as Wade’s team executed their airfield seizure. His breath formed small clouds in the bitter mountain air, a stark reminder of the challenges that lay ahead. The operation had gone smoothly – too smoothly, he thought, exchanging knowing glances with Metro. In Ranger School, easy beginnings often heralded the harshest trials.

The austere beauty of Camp Frank D. Merrill stretched before them, dwarfed by the looming heights of the Georgia mountains. Wade’s boots crunched through a carpet of fallen leaves and pine needles as he and Metro made their way to the assembly area on Mosby. An unusual stillness had settled over the gathered Rangers, the typical chaos of training replaced by an anticipatory quiet that seemed to pulse with its own energy.

The approach of the Ranger Instructors drew every eye. Their weathered faces told stories of countless seasons spent in these unforgiving mountaintops. The lead RI stepped forward, and Wade braced himself for the familiar bark of command. Instead, the instructor’s voice carried across the formation with an almost contemplative tone.

“Welcome to the mountain phase, Rangers.” His words held none of the typical drill instructor fury. “We do things differently here. We don’t need to smoke you – the mountains and weather will extract their pound of flesh for us.” He gestured toward a cluster of crude wooden structures. “Those are your quarters. Basic, but you’ll be begging for them when you hit the TVD. Each hut has a pot-belly stove. Master it, or the cold will be unforgiving.”

As the company dispersed, Wade’s heart nearly stopped. There, framed in a hut doorway, stood a ghost from his past – Jay, his friend who had recycled the mountain phase. Joy and concern warred in Wade’s chest at the sight of his friend’s familiar face.

“Jay!” The name escaped before Wade could stop himself. He quickly corrected, “I mean, Ranger Owens!” The slip felt like sandpaper on his tongue. Security protocols demanded they maintain their cover identities, even here.

Jay’s eyes widened in recognition. “Wade? I mean… Ranger Smith!” They both froze, acutely aware of their mistake.

Metro’s gaze darted between them, his expression a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Wade could almost hear the gears turning in Metro’s head, filing away this interaction for future reference.

Inside the hut, Wade found himself surrounded by history written in permanent ink. Every surface bore the marks of Rangers who had come before – names, units, and dates scrawled wherever space allowed. His fingers traced over the faded writing:

Ranger Dugway, 1/75, 2-2358, “The Frozen Chosen”

Ranger Hathaway, 4/75, 6-2304, “Death from Above”

Ranger Huong, 3/75, “Pain is just weakness leaving the body.”

Even markings from before the Military Consolidation Act of 2362 remained, like whispers from the past:

Ranger Wood, 2/75, 9-2279, “The Last Hard Class”

The weight of tradition pressed down on Wade’s shoulders as he stowed his gear. These walls held decades of triumph and failure, of dreams realized and shattered. Metro appeared equally affected, his usual sharp wit temporarily silenced by the gravity of their surroundings.

An RI’s shadow darkened the doorway. “Listen up, Rangers.” His voice carried the weight of experience. “The next five days will test you in ways you can’t imagine. It’s not just about endurance anymore – it’s about mastering the climb. You’ll learn basic mountaineering skills here at Camp Merrill, then it’s on to Mount Yonah for advanced climbing techniques.” A grim smile crossed his weathered face. “Remember this: it’s not the fall that’s going to kill you. It’s that sudden stop at the bottom. We call it rock poisoning.”

As the RI’s footsteps faded, Metro turned to Wade, his eyes narrowing. “So, Smith,” he said, emphasizing the last name with subtle emphasis. “Looks like you’ve got a friend here. Care to share how you two know each other so well?”

Wade’s mind raced through possible responses, weighing the delicate balance between trust and operational security. The bond between Ranger candidates was sacred, but so were the protocols that kept them safe. He opted for a partial truth, letting sincerity color his voice. “We served together briefly before Ranger School. Didn’t expect to see him here.”

Metro nodded slowly, his expression suggesting he knew there was more to the story but was willing to let it rest – for now. Outside their window, the mountains loomed silent and indifferent, their creasts disappearing into the gathering clouds of late fall.

Mountaineering

The next morning dawned crisp and clear, sunlight filtering through the pines as Wade and his fellow Rangers gathered for their first day of mountaineering training. The instructors wasted no time with pleasantries, diving straight into the complexities of knot tying and rope bridge construction. Sleep-deprived fingers fumbled with unfamiliar patterns, the importance of each knot emphasized by the instructors’ stern reminders of what failure could cost.

“Recon for Jaws!” The unexpected command cut through the morning air. Confusion rippled through the group until understanding dawned – they were about to become intimately acquainted with the icy stream that cut through the lower mountaineering area. The shock of submersion sent electricity through Wade’s nerves, chasing away any lingering fatigue with brutal efficiency.

Shivering and alert, they faced their next challenge – the 60-foot cliff that would serve as their introduction to rappelling. Wade’s prosthetic hand gripped the rope as he approached the edge, the instructor’s earlier warning echoing in his mind: “It’s not the fall that’ll kill you, it’s the sudden stop at the bottom.”

The first lean back into empty space set his heart racing, trust in equipment and training warring with instinct. The Australian rappel came next, forcing them to face the ground as they descended – a technique that demanded not just skill but the courage to embrace the counter-intuitive. Wade found himself grinning despite the challenge, adrenaline singing through his veins as he mastered each new technique.

The buddy evacuation rappel proved the most demanding challenge yet – both physically and mentally. Wade found himself harnessed to Metro’s back, the combined weight of their bodies and gear straining against the rope as they descended awkwardly down the cliff face. Every movement required precise coordination; a single misstep could send them both spinning out of control.

Mount Yonah brought new challenges and moments of transcendent beauty. The 120-foot night rappel under a full moon transformed the ordinary into something almost mystical. Wade hung suspended between earth and sky, the moonlight painting the Georgia mountains in shades of silver and shadow. The rope hummed softly through his hands as he controlled his descent, each breath visible in the cold mountain air. For a brief moment, the weight of his mission, his false identity, and even his separation from Kristin seemed to fall away, leaving only the pure focus of the present moment.

The primitive nature of their climbing gear added an extra edge to every evolution. Modern safety systems had been deliberately excluded from the training, forcing them to rely on basic equipment and technique. When a Marine from another squad suffered severe “rock rash” after his belay man failed to check his descent quickly enough, the harsh scraping sound and his cry of pain served as a visceral reminder of the consequences of complacency.

On their final night at Mount Yonah, the Ranger Chaplain held a service that offered a welcome respite from the physical demands of training. The chaplain’s voice carried across the gathering of exhausted Rangers, his words finding purchase in their weary spirits as he shared the story of the paralytic and his four faithful friends.

“Now, these guys,” the chaplain began, a hint of humor in his voice, “they weren’t afraid of a little property damage to accomplish the mission – tearing through that roof to get their friend to Jesus!” The tired Rangers chuckled, finding familiar echoes of their own determination in the ancient tale.

The chaplain’s expression grew more thoughtful. “But here’s what really strikes me about this story, Rangers. Before Jesus dealt with the man’s obvious physical need, He addressed something deeper – his spiritual condition. As you push your bodies to the limit here, don’t neglect what’s happening in your spirits.”

Wade found his eyes drawn to Jay during the service, remembering their shared experiences aboard the Skravak ship. They had seen horrors that would haunt them forever, yet here they were, still pushing forward, still fighting. The chaplain’s words about spiritual healing resonated deeply with Wade’s own journey over the past two years.

The next morning brought a sharp wind and the knowledge that their time at Mount Yonah was ending. As the Rangers broke camp and prepared for their descent, Wade, Jay, and Metro exchanged fist bumps – a gesture that carried more weight than words could express. Their shared experiences had forged a bond that transcended their cover identities, even if they couldn’t speak of it openly.

The Back Story

The terrain model took shape under Wade and Jay’s careful hands, a miniature representation of Hawk Mountain emerging from carefully placed rocks and twigs. The task offered a rare opportunity for conversation, though both men kept their voices low and their eyes on their work.

“Still can’t believe what happened at New Quantico,” Wade murmured, his prosthetic hand placing a small marker with precise care. “Feels like a lifetime ago, but it’s only been a few weeks.”

Jay nodded, his focus seemingly on the model but his mind clearly elsewhere. “I heard about it while I was still en route to Ranger School. Security team boarded our transport after refueling on Mars. Next thing I know, I’m ‘Frederick Owens,’ newly promoted sergeant, continuing on my way here.” He paused, adding quietly, “They said I’d get further instructions after graduation… if I graduate.”

Wade looked up from the terrain model, studying his friend’s face. “What do you mean, ‘if’? You seem different this time around – stronger, more focused.”

Jay’s hands stilled over the model. “I failed two patrols in my last class,” he admitted, his voice carrying the weight of past disappointment. “That’s why they recycled me in the mountain phase. I was trying too hard to be everyone’s friend, to be the nice guy. My fellow Rangers didn’t respond to that approach, and I paid the price for it.”

“Sounds rough,” Wade said softly, understanding flooding his features. “Leadership isn’t always about being liked.”

“That’s exactly it.” Jay’s fingers traced the contours of their miniature mountain. “I’ve been wrestling with this tension between being a Christian and being a warrior-leader. How do you love your neighbor while pushing them beyond their limits? How do you balance compassion with the aggression this job demands?”

Wade considered this, remembering the chaos of New Quantico. “Sometimes the most loving thing you can do is push people to be their best,” he offered. “Even when they hate you for it in the moment.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Metro’s approach. His footsteps faltered as he neared the model, his eyes widening with sudden recognition. “Wait a minute… I know who you are,” he breathed, glancing between Wade and Jay. “You’re two of the Marines who broke open the Skravak conspiracy!”

The air seemed to freeze between them. Wade straightened slowly, his posture shifting almost imperceptibly into a more guarded stance. “That’s right,” he confirmed quietly. “But we’d appreciate it if you could keep that information to yourself, Metro.”

Metro nodded eagerly, though his excitement was visible. “Of course, of course. But… the news feeds were buzzing about what you did for weeks! The infiltration, the rescued prisoners…”

“The feeds don’t tell the whole story,” Jay cut in, his voice carrying an edge that made Metro’s enthusiasm fade. “What we saw on that ship…” He shuddered, memories flickering behind his eyes.

“We found hundreds of humans in stasis,” Wade explained, his voice barely above a whisper. “Men, women, children… all being kept as food. The stench of that place, the darkness…” He shook his head, unable to continue.

Metro’s face had lost its color. “I knew it was bad, but… I had no idea.”

“That’s why what we’re doing here matters so much,” Wade said, gesturing to the terrain model. “We need every edge we can get to end this war. And that’s why our involvement needs to stay quiet. We can’t afford any distractions.”

Metro straightened, newfound respect evident in his bearing. “You have my word. But… thank you. For what you did, and what you’re still doing.”

The conversation shifted back to the mission at hand, but something had changed between the three Rangers. A deeper understanding had been forged, rooted in shared purpose and mutual respect.

As they finished the terrain model, Ranger Metropax gathered the section for the operations order. The raid on the observation post atop Hawk Mountain would be their first test as a unit. Weather reports warned of an incoming storm system, adding another layer of complexity to an already challenging mission.

“This is going to be a hard one to start with,” Metro addressed the patrol, his voice steady despite the gravity of the task ahead. “But I’m confident if we all do our job and stay motivated, we’ll succeed. We move out at 1800 hours. Hit time is 02.”

The Ascent

Dusk painted the mountains in deepening shades of purple as the Rangers assembled for movement. The bank of dark clouds rolling in from the west promised more than just rain – it carried the threat of a mountain storm that could turn their already challenging mission into a battle for survival.

Wade adjusted his ruck one final time, the weight settling against his shoulders like an old enemy. His arm ached where the prosthetic hand met flesh, the cold already seeping into the connection point. He pushed the discomfort aside, focusing instead on the mission ahead. Beside him, Jay moved with a newfound confidence that spoke of lessons learned through failure and redemption.

The silence of their initial movement was broken only by the soft crunch of boots on rocky ground and the occasional muted clink of equipment. As they began their ascent of the Tennessee Valley Divide (TVD), the first scattered raindrops struck their faces – harbingers of the misery to come.

Within an hour, the weather transformed their world into a cold, wet torture. The rain, driven by gusting winds, seemed to find every gap in their wet weather gear. The steep terrain became treacherous, each step requiring careful placement to avoid a potentially fatal slip. What had started as a tactical movement was rapidly becoming a test of raw endurance and will.

Wade found his thoughts turning to Kristin as he pushed through the pain. The ache in his shoulder had become a constant companion, intensifying with every step. The cold seemed to have a particular hatred for his prosthetic, the connection point feeling like ice against his flesh. Yet in this struggle, he found a strange comfort – every step up this mountain was a step toward proving himself worthy of the sacrifice she had unknowingly made.

Jay moved through the darkness with purpose, his movements exhibiting none of the hesitation that had marked his previous attempt at the mountain phase. His voice, when he spoke to check on his team members, carried the quiet authority of someone who had finally found the balance between leadership and compassion.

Metro called a halt as they reached what felt like the halfway point, though in the darkness and driving sleet, distance had become an abstract concept. The Rangers huddled against the mountainside, checking maps and trying to conserve what little warmth remained in their bodies. The Ranger Instructors stood like sentinels in the storm, their stoic endurance a silent challenge to the struggling students.

The sleet intensified, the icy particles stinging exposed skin like tiny needles. Wade watched his breath form ghost-like clouds in the beam of his red-lens flashlight as he checked his map. The op-order replaying in his head, its words burned into his memory: raid, capture, report. Simple objectives made desperately complicated by terrain and weather.

Pressing On

The final days of mountain phase tested them in ways none had expected. The weather never improved, seeming instead to find new ways to make them miserable. Sleep deprivation played tricks with their minds – shadows became enemy patrols, rocks transformed into living creatures, and sometimes took on the eerie shapes of the Skravaks themselves. Yet through it all, Wade, Jay, and Metro found strength in their shared struggle and unwavering faith.

Their bodies shed weight at an alarming rate, uniforms hanging loose where they had once been tight. The constant physical exertion combined with minimal food created a hunger that became another test of will. Yet somehow, the hardship forged stronger bonds between them. They learned to read each other’s needs without words, to offer support before it was requested.

When word finally came of their successful completion of the mountain phase, the three Rangers shared a moment of quiet triumph. There was no energy for celebration – their bodies and minds were too depleted for anything more than grateful acknowledgment. They had survived the mountains, but they all knew that another challenge awaited them in the swamps to the south.

As they prepared for movement to the Florida phase, Wade caught Jay’s eye across the assembly area. They shared a look that contained volumes – pride in their accomplishment, recognition of how far they’d come, and determination for what lay ahead. Metro joined them, and no words were needed as they gathered their gear. They had conquered the mountains together, and the swamps, however daunting, would face the same unified front.

The mountains had changed them, stripping away pretense and revealing the core of who they were as Rangers and as men. As their transport arrived to carry them south, Wade took one last look at the Georgia mountaintops. They had entered the mountain phase as individuals seeking to prove themselves. They would leave it as brothers, forged in the crucible of cold, wet, and endless vertical challenges.

The swamps awaited, bringing their own unique brand of misery. But for now, they had earned the right to move to the next phase, and that knowledge would carry them through whatever hardship lay ahead.

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

Chapter 25 – Camp Darby

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

But He said to them, “I have food to eat that you do not know about…My food is to do the will of Him who sent Me and to accomplish His work.”

John 4:32 & 34

Scavenge to Survive

There was no centralized issue facility in Ranger School. The students were taken to abandoned structures and vehicles where antique equipment, ammunition, and rations were cached. Once they identified the cache, they had to determine the priority of what to take or leave. Wade’s squad was taken to a landing pad where a dilapidated UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter stood as a silent sentinel on the sun-baked tarmac of Camp Darby. Its faded paint and patches of rust were a stark contrast to the pristine olive drab uniforms of the assembled Ranger students. The once-proud war machine now served as a testament to the enduring legacy of Ranger training, even in this era of advanced technology. First Sergeant Miller’s voice boomed across the area, silencing the nervous chatter of the students.

“Listen up, Rangers! This relic is about to become your home for the next few hours. Welcome to the Darby Phase, where you’ll learn to improvise, adapt, and overcome using methods that have stood the test of time.”

Wade smiled, a mix of anticipation and determination in his eyes. Beside him, Ranger Metropax shifted nervously, his lanky frame dwarfed by the lifeless hulk that used to be a helicopter.

“Think they’ll let us fly it, Smith?” Metropax whispered, joking with his buddy.

Smith chuckled, shaking his head. “Not a chance, Metro. It’d take a miracle to get this baby off the ground again.”

The Rangers were divided into squads and tasked with scavenging gear from the helicopter’s interior. As they clambered into the cabin, the smell of stale fuel and dust filled their nostrils. Smith and Metropax found themselves in the cargo compartment, surrounded by olive drab canvas bags and wooden crates.

As they assembled their rucksacks and load-bearing equipment, Wade felt a connection to the Rangers who had come before him. “These packs were state-of-the-art back then,” Smith explained, showing Metropax how to adjust the straps. “They’ll do the job if you know how to use them.” They stuffed their rucks to the hilt with the necessary blank ammunition, rations, and other gear. They were surprised that the ancient backpack could hold over a hundred pounds if packed correctly.

The Darby Queen

First Sergeant Miller’s voice echoed in their minds as they navigated the challenging terrain. “This phase will test your ability to plan, prepare, and execute reconnaissance patrols. You’ll be evaluated on your leadership skills, your tactical proficiency, and your ability to work as a team. But first, you gotta make it through the Darby Queen.”

The infamous Darby Queen Obstacle Course, a grueling test of physical endurance and mental fortitude, consisted of 20 obstacles spread over a mile of uneven, hilly terrain.

As Wade approached the course, he could feel the eyes of the instructors upon him. He knew that his performance here would be a critical factor in his overall evaluation. Taking a deep breath, he launched himself into the first obstacle.

The course was a blur of rope climbs, wall scales, and log carries. Wade’s muscles screamed in protest as he pushed himself to the limit. His prosthetic hand, usually an asset, didn’t seem to present any advantage to the unique challenge as he navigated the obstacles.

Beside him, Metropax struggled with a particularly difficult rope climb. Without hesitation, Smith paused to offer encouragement and advice. “Keep going, Metro,” he called out. “Use your legs, not just your arms. You’ve got this!”

Metropax nodded, gritting his teeth as he redoubled his efforts. Together, they pushed through the pain and fatigue, crossing the finish line with nothing left in the tank.

As they collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, Wade felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see First Sergeant Miller standing over them, a rare smile on his weathered face.

“That’s what I like to see,” Miller said. “Rangers never leave a man behind. You two exemplify the spirit of this course.”

Recon

The next morning, the Rangers set out on their first patrol. The Georgia pines towered above them, casting long shadows across the forest floor. The air was thick with the scent of pine needles and damp earth. They moved in tactical “V” formations, their boots crunching on fallen leaves and twigs.

The Rangers faced a series of graded patrols, each one designed to test a different aspect of their training. They conducted far and near reconnaissance missions and even participated in a simulated dropship operation.

When it was Smith’s turn to lead, he felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. He gathered his squad, issuing the warning order and assigning roles. As he spoke, he could see the trust in his teammates’ eyes. They were ready to follow him into the unknown.

As they pushed deeper into the forest, Wade recalled the fast-paced instruction they had received on troop leading procedures and principles of patrolling. Now, it was time to put that knowledge into practice.

The squad came to a halt at the edge of a clearing. Wade, who had been designated as squad leader for this patrol, gathered his fellow Rangers around him. “Alright, listen up,” he said in a low voice. “We’ve got a recon mission. Our objective is to gather intel on an enemy position about two klicks northeast of here.”

He quickly issued the operation order, assigning roles and responsibilities to each team member. Metropax would be the point man, leading the way with his keen eye for detail and natural instinct for navigation.

As they moved out, Wade felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He knew that his performance as a leader would be scrutinized not only by the instructors but also by his peers. The peer evaluation system was a crucial component of Ranger School, ensuring that only those who could earn the respect and trust of their fellow Rangers would advance.

The patrol moved silently through the underbrush, each Ranger hyper-aware of their surroundings. Suddenly, Metropax raised his fist, the signal to freeze. Then he motioned for Ranger Smith to move forward to join him.

“Whatcha got?” Wade whispered.

Metropax pointed to his ear. “Vehicle up ahead,” he murmured. “You can barely hear it. It must be on the dirt road here on the map.”

It was obvious that the Op-FOR (Opposing Forces, a simulated enemy unit) was patrolling the roads, looking for any unsuspecting Ranger students.

Smith nodded, his mind racing as he assessed the situation. This unexpected development could complicate their mission, but it also presented an opportunity to demonstrate their tactical awareness and adaptability.

“Good catch, Metro,” Smith whispered. “We’ll stay on azimuth, but stay alert. They’re probably looking for us but we found them first.”

They moved to their objective rally point, posted security, and performed a leader’s recon to get the lay of the land and confirm the location of the objective. Wade knew that if the Op-FOR were to discover them, he would automatically fail his patrol. Reconnaissance wasn’t something you could shoot your way out of. It took the utmost stealth and cunning, and by no means could they be discovered or compromised. The RI, Sergeant Kilby, looked on, scrutinizing Ranger Smith’s every move.

As Wade scoped out the area, he noticed a tall tree about 300 meters from the objective with a large open area between the two. Wade signaled to Metropax and whispered, “If I could climb the tree with my binos, I could probably get a pretty good look at the objective.”

Metropax looked concerned. “That’s pretty unorthodox, Smith. No one mentioned tree climbing in any of our training. You think the RI will go for it?”

Wade thought for a moment. “Well… if we have security posted, don’t violate any principles, and get all the priority intelligence requirements… I can’t see why not.” 

Metropax grimaced but complied.

They slowly moved to the tree, and Wade had his men cover their three, six, and nine o’clock positions at the base. The RI looked at Wade and asked, “Ranger Smith, what in the world are you doing?”

“I’m going to climb this tree and do my recon from here,” Wade said with very little conviction.

The RI raised one eyebrow and shook his head. “Well Ranger, it’s YOUR patrol.”

Wade and Metropax glanced at each other, displaying their fear that this may have been a stupid idea.

It was an easy climb to get about 20 feet above the ground, but there was little concealment. Wade held his breath, hoping and praying the Op-FOR would never suspect such an unorthodox approach to reconnaissance. If they spotted him, it would be a No Go for sure.

He nervously jotted in his notebook the number of personnel, weapons and their types, structures and vehicles, and drew a simple sketch, remembering to annotate the compass heading and distances. He scrambled back down the tree and whispered to his men, “Let’s get the heck out of here!”

They moved most of the night and finally set up a patrol base eight kilometers from the objective, making double sure they weren’t followed. The RI changed the leadership positions, and Wade and Metropax moved to the perimeter to keep watch and pull security. It was 0330 in the morning, and they would each trade positions to get one hour of sleep before “stand to.”

The hours passed too quickly. It was as though they hadn’t slept at all. The RI called Wade to the center of the perimeter to counsel him on his performance the day before. Wade was almost certain the Sergeant didn’t approve of his harebrained idea.

“Ranger Smith, how do you think you did on your recon?” he asked with a blank face.

Wade was so sleepy, he had to pinch himself to stay alert enough to answer the RI’s question. “Well, Sergeant… I don’t think it was by the book… but I didn’t violate any principles that I know of?”

The RI let Wade stew a moment before he addressed the weary Ranger. “Well, Ranger… This is the first time I have ever seen a recon done like a monkey. Very unorthodox, indeed… But you are correct. You didn’t violate any principles of patrolling, and you retrieved all the priority intel requirements. Not only am I going to give you a Go on your patrol, I want you to sign this major positive spot report for initiative and ingenuity.”

Wade sat there dumbfounded. The RI snapped his fingers in front of Wade’s face. “Well Ranger, are you going to sign this or not?!”

Wade quickly snatched the pen from the RI’s grip. “Oh, uh, yes, Sergeant! Roger that!”

A new set of RIs replaced the old ones, and a new day of relentless trudging through the Georgia terrain continued. But Ranger Smith had the assurance he was going to the next phase, the mountains, if he just didn’t do anything dumb in the next few days.

Hallucinations

As they continued their patrols, the physical and mental strain began to take its toll. The Rangers had been operating on minimal sleep and limited rations, pushing their bodies and minds to the limit. This grueling regimen was designed to assess their physical stamina and mental toughness, key attributes of a Ranger.

By the fifth day of patrols, fatigue had set in hard. Smith found himself battling hallucinations brought on by sleep deprivation. As they moved through a particularly dense thicket, he swore he saw leopards leaping across his path. He blinked hard, forcing himself to focus and clear his head.

Beside him, Metropax was faring no better. During a brief rest halt, Smith watched in bemused concern as his friend stumbled toward a nearby tree, fumbling with imaginary coins.

“I could really go for a Snickers,” Metropax mumbled, his voice slurred with exhaustion as he attempted to insert the non-existent currency into what he perceived as a vending machine.

Wade gently pulled Metropax away from the tree. “Come on, buddy,” he said, his voice a mixture of amusement and concern. “Let’s get some shut-eye. We’ll be back on patrol soon enough.”

Despite their exhaustion and hallucinations, Smith and Metropax pressed on. They had learned to rely on each other, to draw strength from their shared determination. This bond, forged in the furnace of Ranger School, was as vital to their success as any tactical skill they had learned.

Driving On

As the days wore on, the challenges intensified.

The mission was a success, with the squad achieving their objectives and exfiltrating without detection. As they regrouped at the designated rally point, Smith could see the exhaustion on his teammates’ faces, but also the glimmer of satisfaction in their eyes. They had faced a challenge and overcome it together.

The final week of the Darby Phase brought a series of increasingly complex reconnaissance missions. But they had finally finished, each having passed their patrols. As the Rangers prepared for their transition to the Mountain Phase, there was a foreboding sense of anticipation in the air.

On their last night at Camp Darby, Smith and Metropax sat by a small pup tent in the dark, reflecting on their journey. The moonlight cast shadows across their faces, highlighting the changes wrought by their experiences.

“You know, Smith,” Metropax said, his voice quiet but steady, “I wasn’t sure I had what it took when we started this. But now…” He trailed off, gesturing at the camp around them.

Smith nodded, understanding the unspoken sentiment. “We’ve come a long way, Metro. But this is just the beginning. The Mountain Phase is going to push us even harder.”

As they sat in companionable silence, Wade pulled out his pocket New Testament and started reading, illuminating the pages with his red lens flashlight. His thoughts drifted to the challenges that lay ahead. The Mountain Phase, conducted in the rugged terrain near Dahlonega, Georgia, would test their skills in a whole new environment. They would face steep ascents, treacherous descents of the Tennessee Valley Divide (the TVD), and the constant battle against the elements.

But as he looked at Metropax, Wade felt a surge of conviction. He had not shared his faith with his Ranger buddy. “Metro, can I pray and ask God to help us make it through the mountain phase?”

Metro looked at Wade matter-of-factly. “Absolutely, Ranger buddy… if you think it will help.”

Wade gave a curious glance over his shoulder. “Have you ever heard the gospel?”

Metro looked skyward, pondering the question. “No… Don’t think I have.”

Wade leaned back on his ruck. “This book tells the story of God’s love for us and how we have all rebelled against Him in spite of that love. But God, our creator, didn’t reject us for our rebellion but actually leaned into it by sending His Son, Jesus Christ, to die for us. His death satisfied the penalty we should have paid for our own wrongdoing. The Bible calls this wrongdoing sin. And the penalty for sinning against God is death. But like I said, He sent His Son to pay that penalty for us by dying on a cross. But He didn’t stay dead. In three days, He rose from the dead to prove He is the King over everything, including death. And now He sits at the right hand of God pleading our case to God.”

Metro’s face twisted. “And you believe this?!”

“Well, yes… but not at first. But once I opened myself to learning more about Him and His love, God started showing Himself to me in very crazy ways.”

“Well… no offense, but that’s what it’s going to take for me… I mean… I need some proof.” Metro leaned back and looked to the sky again. “You can certainly pray for that and that we will make it through the mountains.”

They both laid back to get some sleep under the stars. Wade looked at the brilliant expanse and prayed for Metro and himself. He prayed for Kristen and remembered to lift up Jay as well. The prayer was simple, short, and sincere. Then before he could say Amen, sleep overwhelmed him.

High Altitude Insertion

The next morning, as they prepared to board the awaiting Thunderhawk dropships that would take them to the Mountain Phase, First Sergeant Miller addressed the Rangers one last time. He gave a briefing about their extreme high altitude insertion into Mosby Army Airfield, at Camp Merrill, the mountain phase.

“You’ve proven yourselves worthy to move to the next phase,” First Sergeant Miller said, his voice carrying across the assembly area. “But your journey is far from over. The mountains will test you in ways you can’t imagine. Remember your training, trust in your Ranger buddies, and never, ever quit.” Miller continued, “This next insertion… nothing new to you, you’ve all been through Dropship Insertion School and you’ve all got a few Extreme High Altitude drops under your belts. Your mission is an airfield seizure and making the insertion from the edge of space into Mosby Army Airfield.” A few Rangers exchanged nervous glances. Miller let the weight of his statement sink in and continued.

“Mosby is a 400-meter-long grass strip, barely enough room to land a bird, let alone 30 drop pods. You will be jumping from 120,000 feet, retro-assisted fall for over three minutes, reaching speeds of over 600 miles per hour. You’ll have to rely on your equipment and your training to guide you safely to the ground.” He paused, his eyes scanning the faces of the Rangers. “This is not a simulated drop. This is the real deal. The Op-FOR will be waiting for you, and you’ll need to be prepared to fight as soon as you hit the ground.”

“Any questions?” Miller asked.

The Rangers shook their heads, their faces grim with confidence. They had come too far to have second thoughts now.

“Good,” Miller said. “Get your gear and board the birds. We launch in 30 mikes.”

The Rangers boarded the dropships that would take them to the edge of the atmosphere and then the Mountain Phase, a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling within them.

As the Thunderhawk ascended and the Rangers entered their drop pods, Smith looked out the viewport and watched as the Earth shrunk beneath him. The curve of the planet was clearly visible, and he could see the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. The sky above was a deep, inky black, studded with stars. Wade remembered feeling this small and insignificant on the first drop in DIS. Yet, at the same time, he felt an exhilarating sense of freedom. He was on the edge of space, about to embark on one of the best thrill rides the military had to offer.

The RI acting as the Drop Master came over the comms. “Approaching drop altitude. Get ready!”

Wade took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could feel the dropship slowing as it reached its final altitude. Then, the order came: “Green light! DROP!” The pods exploded to the side and the initial moments of freefall were disorienting. Wade felt weightless, as if he were floating in a dream. The Rangers had entered the void. Suddenly the retros fired to begin their descent.

He could see the Earth rushing towards him, but it seemed to take forever to get closer. He knew he was falling at an incredible speed, but it didn’t feel like it. It felt like he was suspended in time. Then, the atmosphere began to thicken. Wade could feel the air resistance building, slowing his descent. The G-forces pressed up on him, making it difficult to breathe.

Wade fought the blood rushing to his head, focusing on his training. He could see the airstrip and the drop zone rushing up to meet him. This was it… the Mountain Phase.

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

Chapter 24 – Dream or Nightmare

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful…”

Hebrews 10:23

Confirmation 

The sterile corridors of the morgue echoed with Kristen’s determined footsteps. This was her third visit in as many weeks, each time armed with the same unshakable conviction: Wade was alive.

As she approached the desk, the clerk’s face softened with recognition and pity. “Dr. Kitzler, I’m sorry, but nothing’s changed. Corporal Kovacs’ remains aren’t here.”

Kristen nodded, her expression a mask of professional detachment. “I understand. Thank you.”

Outside, she leaned against the cool stone of the building, letting out a shaky breath. The absence of Wade’s body only strengthened her belief. She closed her eyes, remembering their last moment together, Wade’s promise ringing in her ears: “Always.”

With renewed determination, Kristen straightened her shoulders and headed back to the hospital. The war raged on, and she had a job to do. But beneath her calm exterior, a fierce hope burned.

In quiet moments between patients, Kristen found herself whispering prayers. “Lord, keep him safe. Bring him back to me.”

As weeks turned to months, doubt tried to creep in. But Kristen held fast to her faith and the memories that sustained her. She threw herself into her work, comforting those who had seen so much carnage and mending broken minds and hearts, all while holding space in her own heart for the man she knew would return.

“Always,” she whispered each night before sleep claimed her. It was a promise, a prayer, and a declaration of unwavering love. Whatever battles Wade was fighting, whatever secrets kept them apart, Kristen knew one thing with absolute certainty: their story was far from over.

Deceptive Calm

The aroma of perfectly grilled steak wafted through the air as Wade savored each bite, still marveling at the stark contrast between his current surroundings and the rustic boot camp on Carthis 7. The administrative staff at Ranger School had welcomed him with unexpected warmth, their efficiency tinged with a genuine friendliness that felt almost surreal after weeks of secrecy and tension. He knew this special treatment wouldn’t last long.

As he waited for his paperwork to be processed, Wade’s gaze drifted to the window, taking in the lush greenery that stretched as far as the eye could see. Earth had changed dramatically in the century and a half since the devastating Skravak attack. The scorched-earth tactics employed by the aliens had razed cities to the ground, slashing the global population from 8 billion to a mere 1 billion souls, now scattered primarily across rural landscapes.

The irony wasn’t lost on Wade. Humanity had been forcibly regressed to a lifestyle reminiscent of the late 1800s, with only pockets of advanced technology persisting in crucial areas like agriculture, transportation, and communication. The collective trauma of the AI betrayal that had facilitated the alien invasion left most Earthers deeply mistrustful of complex computer systems.

Wade chuckled to himself, realizing how strange Earth seemed compared to the more technologically advanced colonies. The planet’s inhabitants clung to their “backward” ways with fierce pride, their traditions a bulwark against the terrors of the past.

Yet, from this devastation had sprung an unexpected boon. Free from centuries of industrial pollutants and harmful agricultural practices, Earth’s soil had rejuvenated. The planet now stood as one of the most fertile in the entire confederacy, its economy revolving primarily around agriculture and the export of organic materials to resource-hungry colonies.

As Wade shouldered his duffle bag and made his way to the barracks, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia. All the changes, including his new identity, felt like he had stepped back in time. An epoch he had read about in high school history books.

As Wade shouldered his duffle bag and made his way to the barracks, he was immediately paired with Ranger Metropax, a lanky, tall, awkward man with a sheepish half-smile. “Smith,” Metropax nodded, extending his hand. “Looks like we’re ranger buddies.” Wade returned the firm handshake, recognizing the look and demeanor of a Marine Lieutenant. Rangers wore no rank in training and were all considered peers, but the chasm between officer and enlisted was always apparent.

The barracks were a far cry from the sterile environments of military spaceships. The scent of polished wood and fresh linens filled the air as Wade and Metropax claimed adjacent bunks, tossing their duffels down in unison. Around them, other Ranger pairs were settling in, their faces a mix of excitement and apprehension.

The rhythmic sound of footsteps drew everyone’s attention. A barrel-chested Ranger Instructor strolled casually down the center aisle, his posture relaxed yet commanding. He sported a form-fitting black t-shirt, emblazoned with a large gold Ranger tab on the front and his white name tag proudly displayed above it. When he spoke, his voice was calm and almost friendly, belying the intensity of the training to come.

“Welcome, Rangers,” he announced, his gaze sweeping over the assembled Ranger students. “Get a good night’s sleep. We’ll get started at 07 hundred hours in the morning.”

As the instructor turned and exited the barracks, Metropax leaned over to Wade. “You’ve been through this before? You’re a Bat Boy, right, I mean.” Metropax was referring to enlisted rangers headed to an assignment in one of the Ranger Battalions. Wade nodded slightly, and in a hushed tone suppressing a chuckle, said, “07 hundred, ha. Don’t you believe it for a second!”

As they began unpacking their gear, Wade’s thoughts drifted to Kristen. He wondered what she was doing, if she was safe, if she still believed in him. The weight of the promise reassuring him – “This is the woman you’re going to marry” – settled in his heart and mind as a source of strength.

Tomorrow would bring challenges, that much was certain. Wade pulled the sheets tight and folded six inches over the blanket at the head, perfectly made to military standards. He carefully lay on top of the blanket and sheets, fully dressed and ready to move on a moment’s notice. He knew better than to get between the sheets. There would be no time to get dressed, let alone make his bed to pass inspection. As Wade lay on his bunk, listening to the quiet rustling of his fellow Rangers settling in for the night, he warned Metropax and those closest to him to do as he had done. The Lieutenant was eager to follow Wade’s lead. A few others took his advice. But most bunked up like they were at boy scout camp. Confident he was ready for the morning’s festivities, he felt a sense of purpose ignite within him. This was his path forward – to become a Ranger, to serve, and ultimately, to find his way back to Kristen.

With a silent prayer of gratitude and a renewed commitment to his goals, Wade pulled his patrol cap over his face and closed his eyes. Sleep would be a precious commodity from here on out.

The Storm Breaks

At 03 hundred, Wade and Metropax’s eyes snapped open simultaneously as a cacophony of metal against metal shattered the pre-dawn silence. They were on their feet before the trash can finished its thunderous journey down the center aisle. This was the start of what would be the most grueling week of many Rangers’ lives.

Chaos erupted as Ranger Instructors (RIs) burst into the barracks, their voices a tempest of commands and reprimands. “Get out! Get on the street now!” they bellowed, leaving no room for hesitation or questions.

“Stay close Metro.” Wade muttered as they moved through the chaos. The buddy system was already proving its worth – while other Rangers stumbled alone in confusion, Wade and Metropax quickly navigated their way through the maelstrom and found their positions in formation.

There was no time for niceties. Students were shoved, pushed, and herded out onto the street, many still in various states of undress. Some stood at attention with nothing on but their underwear. The formation that assembled outside was a far cry from military precision – a motley crew of disheveled, disoriented individuals struggling to find their assigned positions.

At the head of this chaotic assembly stood a lone RI, his face a mask of disgust as he berated the student company commander. “What in the name of all that’s holy is this?!” he roared, gesturing at the disarray before him. “You call this a formation? I’ve seen better organization on a kindergarten playground!”

As if summoned by the commotion, more RIs materialized, descending upon the platoon and squad leaders like wolves on wounded prey. Their voices joined the cacophony, a symphony of criticism and demands for perfection.

Within moments, it seemed as though the entire cadre of RIs had engulfed the formation. They moved through the ranks like sharks scenting blood in the water, their keen eyes missing nothing. Every uniform infraction, every flicker of defiance or confusion in a Ranger’s eyes became grounds for punishment.

“Drop and give me twenty!” became the refrain of the morning, punctuated by the rhythmic counting of push-ups and the labored breathing of Rangers struggling through flutter kicks.

A short, stocky RI materialized before them, eyes scanning the ranger buddies with predatory intensity. “Well, well… Smith and Metropax. The dynamic duo.” His coffee-scented breath washed over them as he searched for deficiencies. Finding none, he moved on, but not before growling, “Don’t get comfortable, studs. There’s plenty of time to royally mess up.”

Wade blinked and the RI was on to the next victim. He knew it was only a matter of time before the RIs found something to harass him for. This was merely the opening salvo of “City Week,” the crucible designed to separate the wheat from the chaff.

For the next seven days, the concept of “civilization” would be twisted into an exquisite form of torment. It was boot camp on steroids – a gauntlet designed with one primary purpose: to make Ranger students quit.

Wade steeled himself for what was to come. Right now, he stood in the eye of the storm because he was prepared. But he knew the winds would eventually circle around for him. You can’t prepare for everything. He knew the statistics – only 40% would survive this first week. But he also knew something else, something that burned in his chest with an intensity that matched the rising sun.

He had a promise to trust and a promise to keep. 

The storm of City Week had broken, and Wade Kovacs – now Ranger Smith – stood ready to weather it, come what may. His ranger buddy was a quick study and followed Wade’s cue, and together they made a good team. Metropax was smart. Not just book smart either. He had a savvy about him that Wade knew he would benefit from in time.

Survival of the Fittest

“Rangers, on the command of fall out, get back in the barracks and prepare for inspection! You have 30 seconds to be standing by your bunk! Fall out!” The command was given, and as one, the students surged towards the barracks. Inside, chaos erupted as dozens of students were cornered by RIs, forced to sign negative spot reports for infractions both real and imagined.

“Ranger Smith!” An RI’s voice cut through the commotion. “Your bunk has a thread hanging from it! Sign here.” Wade knew it was just a matter of time. The RI wrote on the top of the card, “Ranger James Smith, Roster number 47.” Wade felt an urge to correct the Sergeant but immediately recognized that would be a big mistake in two ways. First, it was his new name and second, you never correct an RI.

Ranger Smith gritted his teeth but complied, knowing each signature was a strike against his chances of completing the course. 

Back in formation, the group stood ready for PT. The air was thick with anticipation and the acrid smell of nervous sweat. As calisthenics began, Ranger Smith pushed through the burn in his muscles; he’d been here before. Reminiscent of boot camp. 

The confidence course loomed ahead, a gauntlet of twelve obstacles designed to break body and spirit. Wade and Metropax tackled each obstacle in tandem. At the Worm Pit, each one in adjacent lanes next to each other, they prepared to negotiate the obstacle. The Worm Pit was a slimy mix of mud, sawdust, and some unidentified substance that made it reek to high heaven. 

Wade took a deep breath, steeling himself before plunging in. The stench was overwhelming, threatening to gag him as he inched forward. The back pocket of his trousers caught on the barbed wire, and for a heart-stopping moment, he thought he might be stuck.

“Move it, Smith! And get your fourth point of contact out of the air! You want to get your butt shot off?” an RI bellowed. “Or do you have parts to spare?” The RI obviously making a snide remark referencing his prosthetic.

Gritting his teeth, Ranger Smith wrenched his pants free and pressed on. He emerged on the other side, gasping and covered in muck, only to hear the dreaded command:

“Not good enough! Do it again!”

Three more times, Rangers Smith and Metropax navigated the Worm Pit before finally satisfying the RI’s exacting standards. Wade was embarrassed that he had let his ranger buddy down, but Metropax took it all in stride. Each obstacle that followed brought its own unique brand of misery, but both Rangers tackled them all with grim determination.

The five-mile run that followed was a study in controlled agony. Ranger Smith focused on the back of the runner in front of him, knowing that falling more than two steps behind meant failure. His lungs burned, his legs screamed for relief, but he pushed on, the mantra “Never Quit!” echoing with each footfall. Both Wade and Metropax, side by side, matched stride for stride, subtly adjusting their pace to stay together while maintaining formation standards. 

Beside him, a fellow student stumbled, falling out of formation. “Get on the truck, Ranger!” an RI screamed. The “No Go Truck” drove slowly behind the formation, loading student after student who could not keep up the grueling pace. Ranger Smith spared a moment of sympathy for his fallen comrade but kept his eyes forward. There would be time for camaraderie later; now was the time for survival.

Breakfast in the mess hall was a cruel joke. Platters of gourmet food tantalized the famished students, but there was no time to savor it. RIs stalked the aisles, their voices a constant barrage of urgency and intimidation.

“Hurry up, Studs! Woof it down! We got some bugs that need killin’ and your chow is slowin’ me down!”

Ranger Smith shoveled food into his mouth mechanically, barely tasting it. Across the table, he saw a student attempt to pocket a roll. The RI’s response was swift and merciless.

“Thinking of saving that for later, sunshine? Get down and give me fifty push-ups! Sign this major unsat spot report. Now get out of my sight!”

The day continued in a brutal parade of challenges. Marine Martial Arts training left them battered and bruised. Classes on antique weapons and explosives tested their mental acuity when their bodies screamed for rest. The principles of patrolling, drilled into their heads with relentless repetition, were adhered to with almost religious fervor.

As 2100 hours approached, Ranger Smith felt a glimmer of relief. Showers and bed beckoned, promising a brief respite from the day’s torments. But even as he stood under the lukewarm spray, scrubbing away layers of grime and sweat, he knew tomorrow would bring more of the same.

Lying in his bunk that night, every muscle aching, Wade closed his eyes and saw Kristen’s face. He remembered their last moments together, the feel of her in his arms, the warmth of her smile. It seemed a lifetime ago, but the memory gave him strength.

He prayed quietly to himself, “Father, you have a plan and I have Your promise. I will stay the course. Give me strength and protect me from all that could go wrong. I believe You’re right here with me every step of the way. And Lord…please be with Kristen and give her faith in You and in me.” Sleep claimed Wade as “Ranger Smith” could be set aside until tomorrow.

Rugged Resilience

As Ranger Smith acclimated to Ranger School’s brutal routine, he marveled at its anachronistic nature. Despite being 350 years in the future, the Marine Corps had steadfastly preserved the training methods of the late 20th century. This dedication to tradition was both a point of pride and a constant challenge.

The school’s history resonated through every aspect of training. Founded in 1951 during the Korean War, it had always emphasized leadership development over pure tactical proficiency. This philosophy endured, with instructors pushing students to their limits to forge resilient leaders.

During patrolling tactics classes, Smith found himself transported to another era. The instructors used terminology that seemed pulled directly from 1980s field manuals. Despite centuries of technological advancement, the fundamentals of small-unit tactics remained surprisingly relevant.

One morning, Wade had finished personal hygiene with ten precious minutes before formation. Rather than being idle, he spotted a manual push mower against the barracks and began trimming scattered grass between pine needles and bare ground.

An RI approached, barking, “Ranger! What on earth are you doing?”

Wade’s mind scrambled. “Mowing the grass, Sergeant!”

“Well, there’s some grass that needs attention, but mostly you’re mowing dirt. Sign here, Ranger.”

Wade’s face fell as he withdrew his antiquated government-issue pen, expecting the worst. To his surprise, it was a major positive spot report, nullifying his previous negative.

“Good initiative, Ranger,” the RI growled. “Keep it up, Smith!”

Wade replaced the mower and double-timed to formation.

At chow, another lavish meal awaited them. They salivated at the prospect of even a small taste before being rushed out. Their last meal using tables and chairs was behind them.

The Ranger First Sergeant waited outside the D-FAC, bellowing, “Since you Rangers think you’re on a cruise ship taking your sweet time, rules have changed! File in the front, out the back. Whatever you eat on the way is yours, but you will not sit, stop, or even blink in my mess hall! Is that clear?”

Rangers filed past servers, grabbing food with their hands – no time for utensils. They gorged themselves, cramming their cheeks full before reaching the exit. Wade managed a decent amount, with just a banana remaining. Peeling it while holding a tray proved challenging, but he stuffed the whole thing in his mouth at the cleaning station.

Still struggling to swallow, he faced an RI at the exit. “What’s in your mouth, Ranger?”

Wade could only mumble, “Nana?”

“Drop and give me fifty, Ranger Smith!” 

Wade and Metropax immediately dropped into the prone and started knocking out push-ups. 

The RI continued, “And I’ve got something for you to sign when you finish choking that down.”

Once again, Wade was back in the negative and was the reason for his buddy’s pain. 

As they finished their push-ups, Wade signed the spot report and they were off toward the barracks at a double time.

“Sorry about that Metro… my bad,” Wade growled apologetically.

“Don’t even think about it, Smith. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have made it past the first day. Nothing but a thing… and for all practical purposes, ‘City Week’ is done. On to Camp Darby,” Metropax said energetically.

“For the first phase of patrolling!” Wade finished. Both of them headed into the barracks and checked their gear one final time.

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

Chapter 23 – The Cost of Survival

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

“O Lord, I beseech You, may Your ear be attentive to the prayer of Your servant and the prayer of Your servants who delight to revere Your name, and make Your servant successful today and grant him compassion before this man.”

Nehemiah 1:11

In the Shadow of Grief

The hospital buzzed with a whirlwind of organized chaos. Kristen moved with a sense of purpose and proficiency, her hands steady as she triaged patients and coordinated with the overwhelmed medical staff. The acrid smell of burnt flesh and the metallic tang of blood filled the air, a grim reminder of the battle that had raged outside.

As she finished stabilizing a Marine with a severe plasma burn, Kristen caught sight of Captain Hollister approaching. His face was a mask of grim determination, but there was something in his eyes that set her on edge. She straightened, steeling herself for whatever news he brought.

“Dr. Kitzler,” Hollister began, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. “I… I’m afraid I have some bad news about Corporal Kovacs.”

Kristen’s heart skipped a beat, but her training kicked in. She observed Hollister’s body language, the slight hesitation in his words, the way his eyes couldn’t quite meet hers and blinking faster than usual. Her mind raced, piecing together the puzzle.

“Wade was killed in action during the Skravak assault,” Hollister continued, his words sounding rehearsed. “He died protecting his fellow Marines and…”

Kristen tuned out the rest of Hollister’s prepared speech. She knew he was lying. The signs were all there – the inconsistencies in his story, the forced emotion in his voice. But more than that, she knew Wade. She had felt his presence, his determination when he rescued her from the bunker.

“Always,” he had promised. And she believed him.

Tears welled up in Kristen’s eyes, not from grief but from the sudden, crushing realization of what this meant. Wade wasn’t dead, but he might as well be. Whatever had happened, whatever he was involved in, it was big enough to fake his death. Big enough to tear them apart.

She thought back to their brief reunion, the feeling of safety in his arms, the way his prosthetic hand had gently cupped her cheek. How long would it be before she felt that touch again? Would she ever?

Hollister mistook her tears for grief, awkwardly patting her shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss, Doctor. Kovacs was a fine Marine and…”

“Thank you, Captain,” Kristen cut him off, her voice surprisingly steady. “If you’ll excuse me, I have patients who need me.”

As Hollister nodded and turned away, Kristen took a deep breath, pushing down the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She had a job to do, lives to save. And somewhere out there, Wade was fighting his own battle. She had to believe they would find their way back to each other.

For now, all she could do was hold onto his promise. Always.

Behind Closed Visors

The hangar bay thrummed with nervous energy as Marines and sailors scrambled to prepare for the next wave of Skravak attacks. Amidst the organized chaos, Wade and Mayumi stood silently, their newly anonymous personna a stark reminder of their altered reality.

Captain Venn approached, his face etched with the weight of command. “Briggs, Torres,” he barked, “you’re on escort duty. Top secret cargo to the ISC Yorktown.” His eyes flickered meaningfully towards Wade and Mayumi.

Briggs nodded sharply. “Understood, sir.”

“Kovacs…Kato!” Venn continued, his voice low, “scrape those name plates off your armor. Visors stay down at all times. As far as anyone’s concerned, you’re KIA. Don’t give them reason to think otherwise.”

Wade’s hands moved mechanically, pulling out his K-bar and using it to erase the paint stamped plate from his battle-scarred armor. Each scrape of metal against metal felt like severing another tie to his life, to Kristen.

As they prepared to board the dropship, Venn pulled Wade aside. “I expect you to keep your commitment, Marine,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “The Rangers will be waiting for you when this is over.”

Wade nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. The promise of joining the Rangers, once his driving ambition, now felt hollow compared to the ache in his chest. How would Kristen handle the news of his “death”? What would their future look like, if they even had one?

As he stepped onto the dropship’s ramp, a memory surfaced – clear and vivid as the day it happened. The first time he saw Kristen, that voice in his head: “This is the woman you are going to marry.” At the time, it had seemed like a fleeting thought, a romantic notion. Now, it felt like a lifeline, a promise from the Lord Himself.

The Thunderhawk’s engines roared to life, drowning out the cacophony of the hangar. Wade took his seat, his anonymity preserved behind the darkened visor. Across from him, Mayumi sat equally silent, her own thoughts hidden behind her faceless helmet.

As the craft lifted off, Wade’s gaze was drawn to the planet below. Somewhere down there, Kristen was facing a world that believed him dead. The thought twisted in his gut like a knife.

“You okay in there, cargo?” Briggs’ gruff voice crackled over the comm.

Wade managed a weak chuckle. “Just peachy, Briggs.”

The dropship broke atmosphere, the blue sky fading to the star-speckled black of space. The ISC Yorktown loomed ahead, a behemoth of human engineering against the cosmic backdrop.

As they approached the carrier, Wade closed his eyes, focusing on that memory, that promise. “This is the woman you are going to marry.” He clung to those words, letting them fill him with a renewed sense of purpose and hope.

Whatever trials lay ahead, whatever battles he would face, Wade knew one thing with absolute certainty – he would find his way back to Kristen. Their story wasn’t over; it was just on pause.

The dropship touched down in the Yorktown’s hangar with a gentle thud. As the ramp lowered, Wade took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever came next. He might be officially dead to the world, but his heart beat stronger than ever, fueled by love, faith, and an unshakable promise.

“Let’s move, cargo,” Alex called out, his voice tinged with a mix of amusement and sympathy.

The Brig

Alex immediately requested directions to the carrier’s brig, a compact detention facility designed for confining wayward marines and sailors. The ISC Yorktown’s brig was a far cry from the prison cells Wade had encountered planetside. Despite not being actual prisoners, Wade and Mayumi found themselves surrounded by reinforced doors and bare necessities—stark reminders of their delicate circumstances. Their fabricated “deaths” necessitated absolute secrecy, making the rarely frequented brig the ideal location for their security.

Briggs and Torres. took their roles as sentries with characteristic Ranger dedication. They stood guard in 4-hour shifts, their imposing Ranger armor deterring curious crew members who wandered too close.

“Nothing to see here, sailor,” Briggs would growl, his voice pitched low enough to send even the bravest scurrying away.

Inside the brig, Wade and Mayumi tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy. They exercised, prayed, read their Bibles, and spent hours in quiet conversation, carefully avoiding the topic that weighed heaviest on their minds – the loved ones they’d left behind.

Alex, ever resourceful, managed to smuggle in creature comforts – real coffee, fresh fruit, even a datapad loaded with books and games. “Can’t have our ‘top secret cargo’ going stir-crazy, can we?” he quipped, his eyes twinkling behind his visor.

The carrier’s captain, true to his orders, never questioned Briggs and Torres’ requests. Extra rations, specialized equipment, even a secure comm link to communicate with Captain Venn, all were provided without hesitation.

Days blurred into weeks. Wade found himself losing track of time, the constant hum of the carrier’s engines a monotonous backdrop to their isolation. He clung to his memories of Kristen, replaying their moments together like a lifeline to sanity.

Mayumi, ever observant, noticed Wade’s struggle. “We’ll see them again,” she said softly one night, her voice barely audible over the ship’s ambient noise. “This isn’t the end, Wade. It’s just a detour. You know God has a plan and this is all going to work out for His glory.”

Wade nodded, grateful for her unwavering faith. “I know,” he replied, managing a small smile. “We’ve got unfinished business and promises to keep.”

As their third week in space drew to a close, there was a discernible shift in the energy aboard the Yorktown. The massive carrier began deceleration maneuvers, and through the small viewport in their cell, Wade and Mayumi caught glimpses of another behemoth ship – the ISC Dominion.

Briggs entered their cell, his usual gruff demeanor softened slightly. “Time to move out,” he announced. “General Redside is waiting for you on the Dominion.”

As they prepared to transfer ships, Torres appeared, his Ranger armor gleaming under the harsh lights of the brig. “Looks like this is where we part ways, cargo,” he said, a hint of fondness in his voice.

Wade and Mayumi exchanged glances, suddenly realizing how much they’d come to rely on the two friends. “Thank you,” Wade said simply, knowing words couldn’t fully express their gratitude.

Briggs cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s been our honor, buddy,” he mumbled. “Now get out there and finish whatever secret squirrel mission you two have been assigned, and come back in one piece. Remember, the second battalion will be waiting for you when you do.” They exchanged clasped hands and chest bumps and resumed their prisoner escort theatrics. Wade and Mayumi closed their visors and prepared to disembark.

As they boarded the shuttle to the Dominion, Wade took one last look at the Yorktown through the viewport. For three weeks, it had been their floating fortress, a safe haven in a sea of uncertainty. Now, they were diving back into the unknown.

General Redside was waiting as they disembarked onto the Dominion, his weathered face a mask of determination. “Welcome aboard,” he said grimly. “We’ve got work to do.”

The Disappearing Act

General Redside’s command post was a stark contrast to the comfortable corridors of the ISC Dominion. Maps and tactical displays covered the walls, and the air hummed with the quiet efficiency of a high-level command center.

“Your contributions have been invaluable,” Redside began, his voice grave. “But it’s put an interstellar target on your backs. We need to make you disappear.”

Wade and Mayumi exchanged glances, tension evident in their postures.

“There’s a new colony,” Redside continued, “on the far side of the Delphi Quadrant. You’ll be assigned to the Marine detachment there. It’s so remote, the Skravaks will never find you. Think of it as a year or two of laying low.”

He slid two packets across his desk. “New identities, credentials, and battlefield commissions to 2nd Lieutenant. It’s well-deserved, but it’ll also throw off any Skravak or AI intel gathering.”

Wade’s hand trembled slightly as he reached for the packet. Inside, a stranger’s name stared back at him. A new life, forced upon him by circumstance and duty.

“Dismissed,” Redside said softly, a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “You ship out at 09 hundred tomorrow.”

In the privacy of his temporary quarters, Wade stared at his new identity. Lieutenant James Smith, born on a distant colony, distinguished service record carefully fabricated. It felt wrong, like a betrayal of everything he’d fought for.

His thoughts turned to Kristen, to his friend Jay, to the life he was leaving behind. The weight of it all pressed down on him, threatening to crush his spirit.

In desperation, Wade fell to his knees. “Father,” he whispered, his voice cracking, “I don’t understand. What am I supposed to do? How can this be Your plan?”

Silence answered him, broken only by the faint hum of the ship’s engines.

With a heavy sigh, Wade reached for his worn Bible. It fell open to where he’d last left off – Nehemiah, chapter one. His eyes were drawn to the final verse:

“O Lord, I beseech You, may Your ear be attentive to the prayer of Your servant and the prayer of Your servants who delight to revere Your name, and make Your servant successful today and grant him compassion before this man. Now I was the cupbearer to the king.”

Wade read the words again, then a third time. Something stirred in his heart – a flicker of hope, an ember of inspiration.

Nehemiah had been a cupbearer, close to the king but not in a position of power. Yet he had found a way to convince the king to follow what he thought was God’s plan for his life and the lives of his people.

Wade’s mind raced. Maybe there was another way. Maybe he didn’t have to disappear to the far reaches of the galaxy. Maybe, like Nehemiah, he could find a way to be with his people and carry on with his purpose.

He glanced at the clock – 02 hundred. Seven hours until departure. Seven hours to change the course of his future.

With newfound determination, Wade stood. He would talk to General Redside in the morning. He didn’t know if it would work, if Redside would listen, but he had to try.

As he prepared for the conversation ahead, Wade felt a sense of peace wash over him. Whatever happened, he knew he wasn’t alone. He had his faith, his training, and the memory of Kristen to guide him. He climbed into his bunk.

“Always,” he whispered to the empty room, a promise to himself and to those he loved. Come what may, he would find a way back to them. He finally drifted off to sleep.

Promises and Possibilities

His datapad alarm woke Wade with a start. He got out of his bunk and got ready for what he felt was the meeting of his life. The corridors of the ISC Dominion buzzed with activity as he, now officially 2nd Lieutenant James Smith, made his way to General Redside’s makeshift 1st Division Headquarters. His heart raced, fueled by a mixture of determination and anxiety.

As he rounded the corner, he nearly collided with a towering figure – the Division’s Sergeant Major, a man whose very presence commanded respect.

“Watch where you’re going, Lieutenant! And…why are you in full kit with your visor down, LT? You know something we don’t know?” the Sergeant Major growled, his eyes narrowing as he stared at his own reflection in Wade’s visor.

Wade straightened, fighting the urge to give some smart aleck answer because he technically out ranked the Sergeant Major and he was in no mood to be lectured, but that would be a huge mistake. “My apologies, Sergeant Major. My…my visor…well that’s classified. I’m here to see General Redside.”

The Sergeant Major’s expression hardened. “Classified, huh? Well your General is in a classified briefing. He’s not to be disturbed.”

Wade felt his resolve waver for a moment, but the memory of Nehemiah’s courage steeled him. “I understand, Sergeant Major. I’ll wait.”

Hours ticked by as Wade stood outside the briefing room, his posture rigid, his mind racing through potential arguments. Crew members passed by, casting curious glances at the young officer who seemed to have taken up residence in the corridor and was awkwardly “overdressed.”

Finally, the briefing room door slid open. General Redside emerged, deep in conversation with a group of senior officers. The Sergeant Major immediately stepped forward, placing himself between Wade and the General.

“Sir, this Lieutenant has been waiting to speak with you, but I’ve informed him you’re not to be disturbed,” the Sergeant Major reported, his tone making it clear he expected Wade to be dismissed.

Wade held his breath, watching Redside’s eyes. For a moment, he feared the General wouldn’t recognize him, that his new identity had already erased who he truly was.

But then Redside nodded, a flicker of curiosity crossing his weathered features. “It’s alright, Sergeant Major. I’ll speak with the Lieutenant.”

The Sergeant Major’s surprise was evident, but he stepped aside without further comment.

Redside gestured for Wade to follow him back into the briefing room. As the hatch closed behind them, shutting out the busy corridor, Wade felt the weight of the moment settle on his shoulders and took off his helmet.

“Well, Lieutenant Smith,” Redside said, emphasizing the unfamiliar name, “what’s so urgent that you’d spend hours waiting outside my door?”

Wade took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “Sir, I’ve been thinking about the assignment you gave me and Corporal… I mean, Lieutenant Hawkins.”

Redside’s eyebrow raised slightly. “Having second thoughts about your new identity already?”

“No, sir,” Wade replied quickly. “Well, yes, but that’s not… Sir, I believe I can be of more use to the war effort than being stuck on some rock babysitting a distant colony.”

The General’s expression remained neutral, but Wade sensed a shift in his posture – he was listening.

Encouraged, Wade pressed on. “Last night, I was thinking about why I joined the Marine Corps and my contributions to our war against the Skravaks…

Redside leaned back, his eyes never leaving Wade’s face. “Go on, Lieutenant.”

Wade felt a surge of hope. The General hadn’t dismissed him outright. He had a chance.

Drawing a deep breath, Wade stood taller. The memory of Kristen, of his promise – “Always” – gave him strength. Whatever came next, he knew he was fighting for something greater than himself.

“Sir,” he began, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his heart, “I’d like to propose a different path – one that keeps me in the fight, on my original plan, while still maintaining the secrecy we need…”

Another Way

Wade took a deep breath, drawing on every ounce of courage he possessed. “Sir, do you remember what you told me in the hospital? You said, ‘If there’s ever anything I can do for you, come and see me.’ Well, I’m here now, and I want to take you up on that offer.”

General Redside’s eyes squinted, a mix of surprise and intrigue crossing his face. “So you’re cashing in all your chips…I remember… continue, Lieutenant.”

“Sir, instead of sending me to a distant colony, what if you kept me as a corporal and sent me to Ranger School instead?” Wade’s words tumbled out, fueled by passion and conviction. “There’s limited contact with the outside world, and no one would suspect I’m hidden away in Earth’s mountains or swamps. I could still serve, still make a difference, without compromising my security. Sir…that’s what I signed up to be…a Deep Space Ranger.”

For a long moment, Redside said nothing. His eyes bored into Wade’s, as if searching for something deep within the young Marine’s soul. When he finally spoke, his voice was a mixture of irritation and admiration.

“Do you have any idea how much trouble we’ve gone to, changing your identities, creating new backgrounds, arranging for your protection on that colony?” Redside’s tone was stern, but Wade detected a hint of something else – respect, perhaps?

“I understand, sir,” Wade replied, his voice steady despite his racing heart. “And I’m grateful for everything you and the Corps has done for me. But I believe this could work. It keeps me safe, keeps me useful, and…” he hesitated for a moment, then pressed on, “…it keeps me closer to New Quantico, sir.”

Redside’s expression softened almost imperceptibly. He stood, walking to the viewport that overlooked the vastness of space. For what felt like an eternity, he said nothing, simply staring out at the stars.

Finally, he turned back to Wade. “You know, Smith, when I first met you in that dropship before our recon, missing a hand, running a smokin’ fever. I saw something in you. I saw grit, a drive and determination that set you apart.” He chuckled softly. “I should have known you wouldn’t settle for being shipped off to some backwater planet.”

Hope surged in Wade’s chest. “Does that mean…?”

Redside held up a hand, silencing him. “It means I’m considering it. But let me ask you this – with all you’ve been through…are you sure about this? Ranger School, I mean…haven’t you more than proved yourself? I can make this happen but I got to know you’re sure.

Wade nodded solemnly. “I’m sure, sir. It’s where I belong. It’s my calling.”

The General scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Well, then. I suppose that settles it.” A sly grin spread across his face. “But will you at least let me demote you to sergeant?”

For a moment, Wade was stunned. Then, a laugh bubbled up from deep within him, releasing weeks of tension and fear. “You’ve got yourself a deal, General.”

Redside stepped forward, extending his hand. As Wade shook it, the General shook his head in amazement. “Sergeant Smith, you are going to make one heck of a Ranger!”

As the laughter subsided, a comfortable silence fell between them. Wade felt a weight lift from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of purpose and direction.

“Thank you, sir,” he said with all the sincerity he could muster. “For listening, for understanding.”

Redside nodded, his expression turning serious once more. “Don’t thank me yet, Sergeant. We’ve still got some details to work out, and you’ve got one long tough journey ahead of you.”

Wade straightened, feeling more like himself than he had in weeks. “I won’t let you down, sir.”

Wade donned his helmet as he exited the briefing room, passing the sneering Sergeant Major. Silently, he thanked God for the courage and words granted during his “Nehemiah-like” discussion with the general. He felt his Lord’s presence every step of the way.

“Always,” he whispered, renewing his promise to all he held dear. Whatever trials lay ahead, he would face them head-on, armed with the strength of his convictions and the power of his faith. The path forward was clear now, and “Sergeant James Smith” stood ready to take his first step towards becoming a Ranger and reuniting with Kristen. 

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

Chapter 22 – The Battle of New Quantico

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio

He arose and struck the Philistines until his hand was weary and clung to the sword, and the LORD brought about a great victory that day…

2 Samuel 23:10

Leaning Forward in the Foxhole

The piercing wail of air raid sirens shattered the morning calm, sending a surge of adrenaline through Wade’s body. In an instant, the base erupted into organized chaos as Marines, Sailors, and Rangers scrambled to assemble with their units. Wade’s mind was on autopilot, months of training kicking in as he sprinted towards the barracks.

The company armorer was already in position, efficiently distributing weapons and ammunition to the arriving troops. Wade grabbed his pulse rifle, checking it with practiced ease before slinging it across his back. He paused for a moment, flexing his prosthetic hand as he loaded extra magazines into his tactical armor.

“Kovacs!” a voice called out. Wade turned to see Captain Hollister, his face a mask of grim determination. “Get to your squad. We’re establishing defensive positions.”

As Wade jogged to join his unit, he caught glimpses of the company COs huddled around the battalion commander, their voices low and urgent as they received their orders. The gravity of the situation was palpable, electric tension crackling through the air.

Captain Hollister’s voice cut through the din as he rallied the platoon leaders, then addressed the entire company. “Listen up, Marines! We’re moving to our pre-assigned defensive positions. Secure, fortify, and await further orders. This is not a drill. The enemy is coming, and we’re going to give them one heck of a welcome party!”

A chorus of “Oorah!” echoed across the assembly, but Wade’s mind momentarily drifted to Kristen. He wished he could contact her, make sure she was safe in the bunker. But he knew she was smart and well-trained – she would have already taken shelter. He had to trust in her abilities and focus on the task at hand.

Wade’s squad moved out, double-timing it to their assigned position overlooking the military prison two miles away. As they began to set up their heavy weapons, Wade’s gaze was drawn to the facility. It was a stark, fortified complex, currently housing the government officials implicated in the Skravak conspiracy. He couldn’t help but wonder if their presence made the base a priority target.

Wade’s squad leader barked out orders, his voice tense with urgency. “Kovacs! Take Keller and Rutherford. Set up motion detection and anti-armor mines 300 meters to our front. Move it!”

Nodding sharply, Wade gestured to the two privates. They quickly loaded the mines onto the Mule, a compact wheeled robot designed for such tasks. As they moved out, the weight of their mission pressed down on them. Being so far in front of their lines left them exposed and vulnerable.

The trio worked efficiently, their movements precise despite the nervous energy crackling between them. Wade’s prosthetic hand proved invaluable, allowing him to handle the delicate sensors with unexpected dexterity. Keller kept watch while Rutherford assisted with the placement.

“Last one,” Wade muttered, carefully positioning the final anti-armor mine. The Mule beeped softly, confirming the activation of the minefield’s network.

“Let’s get out of here,” Rutherford whispered, his eyes darting across the eerily quiet landscape.

They hustled back to their fighting position, relief washing over them as they rejoined their squad. Wade couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d just set up the first line of defense against an impending storm.

First Blood

Suddenly, the sky erupted in a dazzling, terrifying light show. Bright flashes illuminated the clouds as the Confederation Navy engaged the attacking ships just above the atmosphere. Wade’s heart swelled with pride, knowing that Mayumi’s intel from the Skravak ship had provided crucial information on the weaknesses of the AI-operated vessels. Their sacrifices and risks were already paying off.

“Here they come!” Bikram’s voice cut through the tense silence, drawing all eyes to the horizon.

Lieutenant Jordan, their platoon leader, steadied the troops with a calm command. “Easy, Marines. Pick your targets and aim for the neck. Make your shots count.”

Wade peered through his scope, tracking the incoming threats. His finger tensed on the trigger, ready to unleash plasma wrath. But before they could engage, a blinding flash and deafening roar shook the earth. Plasma rockets slammed into the prison, vaporizing the structure in an instant. The shockwave hit their position like a freight train, showering them with shrapnel, rocks, and dirt.

As the dust began to settle, Wade’s blood ran cold. The prison was gone, replaced by a smoldering crater. And descending through the clouds came a swarm of Skravak landing craft, disgorging hundreds of armored personnel carriers that began to advance on New Quantico.

“Anti-armor teams, engage!” Lieutenant Jordan bellowed. Marines scrambled to ready their heavy weapons, sending streaks of plasma screaming towards the approaching APCs. Above them, the distinctive roar of Nova Eagles filled the air as close air support joined the fray, their precision strikes turning Skravak vehicles into twisted, burning husks.

The Nova Eagle strike aircraft was a marvel of human engineering, designed to dominate both atmospheric and low-orbit combat scenarios. Its sleek, delta-wing design was crafted from advanced metamaterials that could adapt to different atmospheric conditions, allowing for unprecedented maneuverability. Powered by a compact fusion reactor, the Nova Eagle could achieve hypersonic speeds with ease. Its arsenal included plasma-based weaponry, smart missiles with AI-driven targeting systems, and an electromagnetic pulse generator for disabling enemy electronics. The cockpit featured a neural interface, allowing navy pilots to control the aircraft with thought alone, while an advanced AI co-pilot managed complex systems and provided tactical support. With its ability to operate in space and rapidly deploy from orbital platforms, the Nova Eagle represented the pinnacle of the Confederation’s aerospace technology in the fight against the Skravak threat.

But for every APC they destroyed, it seemed two more took its place. The relentless advance of the Skravak forces was a terrifying sight, their armored vehicles grinding forward with mechanical precision.

Private Rutherford, his face streaked with dirt and sweat, let out a nervous laugh. “They’re in for a big surprise in about 50 more meters,” he said, his eyes fixed on the approaching enemy.

Wade nodded grimly, his grip tightening on his weapon. The air was thick with tension as they watched the Skravak forces draw closer to the minefield they had so carefully laid.

The Trap Sprung

Suddenly, the front erupted in a huge ball of fire making a towering mushroom smoke cloud. The first APC hit a motion-activated mine, triggering a massive explosion that rocked the ground beneath them. The vehicle’s front end disintegrated, sending shrapnel and alien body parts flying in all directions.

Before the dust could settle, more explosions followed in rapid succession. Anti-armor mines detonated with devastating effect, tearing through the Skravak vehicles like they were made of paper. The carefully placed pattern of explosives created a domino effect, each blast triggering the next in a symphony of destruction.

Skravak warriors caught in the blasts were vaporized instantly, while others were thrown from their vehicles, their chitinous bodies shattered by the force of the explosions. The air filled with acrid smoke and the agonized screeches of dying aliens.

The minefield had turned into a killing zone, halting the Skravak advance in its tracks. Burning wreckage and alien corpses littered the battlefield, creating a gruesome obstacle course for any survivors attempting to press forward.

Keller and Rutherford exchanged wide-eyed looks of disbelief before breaking into grins. They slapped each other’s hands in a triumphant high five, their earlier nervousness replaced by a surge of adrenaline-fueled excitement.

“Get down!” Wade’s sharp command cut through their moment of celebration. His prosthetic hand gripped Rutherford’s shoulder, yanking him back into cover as a stray plasma bolt sizzled overhead.

The sobering reality of their situation crashed back over them. The mines had bought them time and thinned the enemy’s numbers, but the battle was far from over. Wade’s stern gaze brought the two privates back to focus, reminding them that this was no time for celebration.

“Eyes front,” Wade ordered, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. “They’ll be looking for a way around. Be ready.”

The privates nodded, their expressions hardening as they readied their weapons. The brief moment of triumph faded, replaced by grim determination as they prepared to face the next wave of the Skravak assault.

The hillside was alive with explosions and weapons fire as Easy Company fought desperately to hold the line. Wade’s ears rang with the constant barrage, his nostrils filled with the acrid stench of ozone and burning metal.

To their left, Wade caught glimpses of Ranger units engaging the Skravak forces with terrifying efficiency. Their advanced weaponry and tactics were taking a heavy toll on the alien invaders, but still, the enemy pressed forward, their singular focus on breaching New Quantico’s defenses.

Clash of the Titans

Without warning, the APCs ground to a halt, their ramps slamming down to disgorge a nightmarish horde of Skravak Hunters. The aliens charged up the hill with inhuman speed, their chitinous bodies gleaming in the fire fight.

“Hold the line!” Jordan screamed, but it was a futile command. The Skravak warriors tore through their defenses like tissue paper, tossing Marine bodies left and right as if they were ragdolls.

A blood-curdling scream drew Wade’s attention. His heart stopped as he saw Bikram, lifted high by a massive Skravak Hunter, its mandibles tearing into his friend’s body. “No!” Wade roared, emptying his magazine into the creature, but it was too late.

Mayumi dove into the fighting position beside him, her eyes wide with terror. Wade grabbed her arm, steadying her as he shouted, “We’ve got to fall back!” Through the chaos, he could see the remnants of their unit rallying near the water tower, preparing for a last stand.

They sprinted towards their comrades, Keller and Rutherford followed, pulse rounds and plasma bolts crisscrossing the air around them. The Skravak force had been bloodied, but they still outnumbered the Marines significantly. As they reached the defensive circle, he knew in his heart that this might be their final moments.

But just as the Skravak warriors closed in for the kill, the battlefield erupted in a new cacophony of sound and fury. Ranger all-terrain hovercraft slammed into the alien’s flank, their weapons carving bloody swathes through the enemy.

The Ranger all terrain hovercraft, the Badger, is a rugged combat vehicle designed for rapid deployment and overwhelming firepower. Its sleek, low-profile design allows it to glide effortlessly over various terrains, from rough battlefield landscapes to water surfaces. The craft is propelled by advanced repulsor technology, creating a cushion of air that enables it to move swiftly and silently. Most notably, it features twin plasma chain guns mounted on its sides, capable of unleashing a devastating barrage of energy bolts that can shred through Skravak armor with ease. The hovercraft’s reinforced hull provides excellent protection for its operators, while its modular design allows for quick repairs and upgrades in the field. With its combination of speed, firepower, and versatility, the Ranger’s Badgers proved to be a game-changing asset in the battle against the alien invaders.

In their wake came figures that seemed to defy gravity – Rangers in exoskeleton suits, leaping impossibly high before crashing down onto the Hunters with devastating force. The Ranger’s exoskeleton suits are an advanced powered armor systems enhance the wearer’s strength, speed, and durability to superhuman levels. The suits are sleek and form-fitting, crafted from a combination of advanced alloys and reactive polymers that provide exceptional protection while maintaining flexibility. Servo-motors and hydraulics integrated into the exoskeleton multiply the user’s strength, allowing them to leap great distances, lift incredible weights, and deliver devastating blows in close combat. Advanced sensors and heads-up displays provide real-time battlefield information, while built-in weapon systems and energy shields further augment the Ranger’s combat capabilities. In action, Rangers in these exoskeletons move with inhuman grace and power, easily outmaneuvering and overpowering the Skravak warriors.

“Cease fire!” Wade yelled in order to prevent friendly fire as the Rangers maneuvered to their front. The tables turned in an instant. The Skravak charge faltered, then collapsed entirely as the Rangers tore into them with ruthless efficiency. Insectoid limbs and viscous black blood filled the air, creating a grotesque tableau of destruction.

The last of the Hunters fell, twitching, to the ground. The abrupt silence was almost as deafening as the battle had been.

Pursue and Rescue

But their reprieve was short-lived. Movement on the adjacent hill caught Wade’s eye – another Skravak assault force, this one moving with singular purpose towards the hospital five miles away. His heart plummeted as a single thought consumed him: Kristen.

Before he could voice his fears, a familiar gravelly voice cut through the post-battle haze. “On your feet, Marines!” Captain Venn bellowed, his Ranger armor scorched and dented but still imposing. “We’ve got more bugs to squash!”

Wade watched in disbelief as Captain Hollister seemed to shrink before Venn’s forceful presence, ceding control without argument. But he had no time to dwell on the shift in command dynamics.

Briggs and Alex, resplendent in their Ranger exoskeletons, appeared before him and Mayumi. “Marines, you’re with us,” Briggs growled. “Move!”

Without warning, Briggs grabbed Wade, his augmented strength easily lifting the Marine as if he weighed nothing. Alex did the same with Mayumi, and then they were off, bounding across the war torn landscape with inhuman speed.

Despite the awkward position, Wade and Mayumi managed to bring their weapons to bear, picking off Skravak stragglers as they raced to intercept the force threatening the hospital. The exoskeletons’ stabilizers compensated for much of the jarring motion, allowing them to land surprisingly accurate shots.

As they closed on the rear of the Skravak formation, Briggs and Alex released their passengers, immediately opening fire on the unsuspecting aliens. The Rangers tore into the enemy’s flank and rear, their advanced weaponry and augmented abilities giving them a decisive edge.

Wade and Mayumi sprinted towards the hospital’s reinforced bunker, their hearts pounding with fear and exertion. They rounded a corner to find a group of Hunters attempting to breach the bunker’s heavy doors.

Without hesitation, Wade pulled a plasma grenade from his belt. “Grenade out!” he shouted, lobbing the device into the midst of the aliens. The resulting explosion turned three Hunters into a spray of ichor and chitin fragments.

The Rangers quickly mopped up the remaining threats, their efficiency almost clinical in its brutality. As the last Hunter fell, an eerie quiet once again descended over the battlefield.

Wade approached the bunker door, his hand shaking slightly as he input his override code. With a hiss of hydraulics, the massive portal swung open, revealing a crowd of frightened medical personnel and patients.

And there, in the center of it all, stood Kristen. Her eyes locked with Wade’s, and in an instant, she was in his arms, holding him tight as if she never wanted to let go.

“You came,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Wade pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his prosthetic hand gently cupping her cheek. “Always,” he replied, the single word carrying the weight of a vow.

As Good as Dead

As Wade held Kristen, savoring the momentary respite from the chaos outside, a gruff voice cut through the air. “Corporal Kovacs!” he growled.

Wade turned to see Easy Company’s First Sergeant, his face etched with urgency. “They want to see you and Corporal Kato in the TOC pronto!”

Reluctantly, Wade released Kristen, exchanging a worried glance with Mayumi. “We’ll be back,” he promised, squeezing Kristen’s hand before following the First Sergeant out of the bunker.

They were led to a makeshift Tactical Operations Center near the hospital, a hive of activity as officers and NCOs coordinated the ongoing defense of New Quantico. In the center of it all stood Captains Venn and Hollister, deep in conversation with the Battalion Commander.

As Wade and Mayumi approached, the officers fell silent, their expressions grim. Captain Venn gestured for them to join the huddle.

“Corporal Kovacs, Corporal Kato,” the Battalion Commander began, his voice low and tense. “We’ve been analyzing the Skravak attack patterns. It’s become clear that they’re systematically targeting specific personnel and intelligence assets from our previous operations.”

Wade felt a chill run down his spine as the implications sank in. Captain Hollister continued, his usual bravado subdued. “We believe… you were the target.”

The words hit Wade like a physical blow. He glanced at Mayumi, seeing his own shock mirrored in her eyes.

“The prison was their first target,” Venn added, his voice heavy. “The Admiral and Senator were almost certainly killed in that initial strike.”

Wade’s mind reeled, remembering the blinding flash that had vaporized the prison complex. He thought of Bikram, torn apart by the Skravak Hunter, and felt a wave of nausea.

“Unfortunately, Corporal Singh was killed in action,” the Battalion Commander confirmed, as if reading Wade’s thoughts. “You two are the only survivors of the original team.”

Captain Venn leaned in, his voice dropping even lower. “Which is why, as of this moment, you’re both officially listed as KIA.”

“Sir?” Mayumi questioned, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“It’s the only way to throw the Skravaks off your trail,” Hollister explained. “You’ll be assigned to the carrier orbiting the planet until further orders can be given. In the meantime, absolutely no news feeds. As far as the world is concerned, you’re dead.”

Wade’s mind raced, trying to process the sudden shift in his reality. Then, like a bolt of lightning, a thought struck him. “Jay,” he blurted out, drawing curious looks from the officers. “My brother… he was with us on the Skravak ship and during our recon… he was on his way to Ranger School. Did the Skravaks intercept that information too?”

The officers exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, Captain Venn spoke. “We can’t be certain, but we have to assume they might have. We’ll take precautions to ensure his safety.”

Wade nodded, a knot of worry forming in his gut. He thought of Kristen, of the brief moment of reunion they’d just shared. How could he leave her now, let her believe he was dead?

As if sensing his thoughts, the Battalion Commander placed a hand on Wade’s shoulder. “I know this is difficult, Corporal. But right now, your survival – and the information you carry – is crucial to turning the tide of this war. Can we count on you?”

Wade straightened, pushing aside his personal concerns. He met Mayumi’s gaze, seeing the same resolve reflected there. “Yes, sir,” they answered in unison.

“Good,” Venn nodded. “Prepare for immediate evac. And remember, from this moment on, Wade Kovacs and Mayumi Kato no longer exist.”

As they left the TOC stepping back into the aftermath of battle, Wade couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a tactical retreat. His guts were churning as he thought of Kristen getting the news that he was …dead. 

Link to all Chapters – Text & Audio