Misplaced Faith

Story

Rockets rained down out of the night sky.

Smoky contrails ending in staccato impacts sent shrapnel and debris flying. Men were knocked off their feet. Secondary explosions filled the firebase with orange light from fires.

Already the base alarm was sounding.

Outgoing counterbattery could be heard as the base responded to this new and sudden threat. Mortars thumped in the night from inside the firebase.

The scene quickly turned into chaos.

The security footage went static for a moment. The high vantage of the camera overlooking the small firebase panned right. More rockets rained down. Something much larger detonated in one of the hangars… fuel or ammunition.

The glowering face watching the video couldn’t make it out…

Two black shapes moved at the base perimeter. They were hard to see in the darkness. Only the light from explosions to illuminate.

There was a quiet rattle without muzzle flash. Impacts rocked the troop births closest to the perimeter.

Even over the crackling of flames and shouting, the screams inside could just barely be heard.

“Do you think this is a bit extreme?” A familiar voice called out from the darkness behind the gaunt features of the man who watched the trideo recording. “They’re even hitting the squad bays.”

“Quiet.” Captain Arnault Vandenberg growled to his subordinate and continued watching the video.

There were flashes from the base mortar pits before the quiet rattle sounded from the video again.

He could make out a silhouette in the dim light by the pits. Roughly the size of a gear. Weapon levelled and spitting silent death.

Captain Vandenberg watched men fall. One of the mortars toppling over as Norlight infantry tumbled and spasmed, dying.

Vandenberg nodded to himself, pleased.

This team worked quickly, Vandenberg thought. He checked the timestamp on the trideo. Less than two minutes in, and already the base’s counterbattery alert teams were downed.

His eyes flicked back to see that gear silhouette joined by a second. Both kicking up dust as they seemed to roll through the mortar pits, as if on skates. It was a telltale sign of Terra Novan gears attacking the Norlight base.

“Edit that out.” Vandenberg pointed at the chaos unfolding on the display, waving a bony finger at the gears on his screen, “We don’t want that. That looks bad.”

“Will do, sir.” Senior Ranger Defalco, Vandenberg’s aid, nodded. The older Captain paused the trideo, the lights of his office automatically turning back on as he spun to face his aid.

“The Blue Angels did their job, as expected. Make sure the team gets something special. The true faithful of the Prophet should reap the benefits of their actions. Especially one as difficult as this,” Vandenberg nodded, almost to himself, and saw the nod reflected in Defalco.

“I’ll arrange it, sir.”

“And another thing.” Vandenberg scowled. “Don’t question this. What we do here, I mean. The Prophet’s work requires faith. Faith, Defalco. Even when such…distasteful… methods,” He waved a hand towards the paused screen. “Are necessary.”

“Necessary.” Defalco gave another nod. “Of course, it was wrong of me to have such doubts.”

“We must quiet these doubts.” Vandenberg half-turned towards the trideo to power it off and remove the data-stick. “Just as we must find new and more direct ways to quiet that heretic harlot, Xing, and her misguided fools.” The captain turned back towards his subordinate, looking him up and down and noting the blank, featureless expression on the man’s face. Vandenberg softened slightly, reaching out to grasp the Norlight NCO by the shoulder in reassurance.

“This is the best way. The only way now. This attack paves the way for greater things, the first step in a wider struggle that will do the Prophet’s true work. With the support of the 9th gone in the next attack against those forsaken earthers, the battle will fail. The public will blame Xing’s followers and our government. They will see strength is nothing without true faith,” Vandenberg gave the Senior Ranger’s shoulder a squeeze. “Prophet’s Shield needs men like you. Like us. Men whose faith allows no question. No hesitancy. Men who are willing to get their hands dirty, so that the Prophet’s legacy and Word remain clean.”

“Xing and her heretics must be dealt with. If the Shield requires… unsavory means,” Defalco nodded as he spoke, meeting his superior’s stare. “Then so be it. But…sir, the casualties. Those are fellow Norlights. Some in that unit were no doubt twisted by Adrianna Xing’s message. But what of the true faithful? There were some in that unit, for certain.”

“Unfortunate.” Vandenberg sighed and gave a nod. “But martyrdom is always painful for those who remain. It is beyond their concern now… Their lives were given for a greater purpose.” Vandenberg released his subordinate’s shoulder, holding the data-stick out for Defalco. The Senior Ranger took it. “I’ve changed my mind. Don’t edit the video. Destroy it. It’s too recognizable.”

Defalco nodded, his mind going to the image of the gears that he saw on the trideo display. Blue Angels. Norlight Black Cats. It would be too hard to edit without leaving a digital trail.

“You’re right, sir. I’ll see it done.”

“Good man,” Vandenberg patted the NCO’s hand as he took the stick. “See it done and rest well. Sleep the sleep of the righteous. It’s late. You deserve some rest.”

“Sir, what of the whispers? Rumors? Even at HQ, there’s some rumblings… from true followers and others.”

“What rumors?” Vandenberg frowned, matched only by Defalco’s deeper furrow.

“There’s talk of war. Not with the CEF. With… ourselves. The NLC. NAF.”

“Nonsense. Actions like this will prevent anything like that and turn public opinion against Xing and her church. Even if there are… casualties.” Vandenburg grunted, turning back to his desk.

“…And if it doesn’t?” There was the briefest hesitancy in Defalco’s voice.

“Then we will win. We are the righteous shield protecting the Prophet’s legacy.” Vandenberg didn’t turn, opening a drawer in his desk with a key. “Dismissed, Senior Ranger.”

Defalco saluted promptly and left the office, closing the door on his way out. Vandenberg waited until the fading footsteps of his subordinate retreated down the hall. The captain slid a new, black data-stick from the drawer and quickly inserted it into his trideo. Encryption protocols played across the display’s surface, followed by the Norlight Armed Forces and Blue Angels unit insignia. There was a voice on the other end, but no image.

“Orders?” The voice on the other end of the trideo channel was low, machinery and engine noise behind it.

“Unfortunately, yes. Faith cannot be questioned. Execute.” Vandenberg sighed, closing his eyes with the pain of the order.

“…Understood.” The voice shared the sadness that Vandenberg couldn’t keep from his own before the trideo cut. The captain leaned onto his desk for a moment, eyes squinted shut at the order he had just given. He took a deep breath, circling around the wooden furniture to sit in his chair, reaching into a side drawer to a stack of watermarked and headed papers. Vandenberg took the top sheet. He reached for a pen and began writing. These line-of-duty bereavement letters took a toll. He had gotten used to them in recent years.

Vandenberg wrote with rehearsed skill. Defalco’s family name was at the top of the letter.

He heard the familiar muffled staccato rattling of a suppressed SMG. Vandenberg didn’t lift his eyes to the excitement outside his window.

There was a heavy thump of an explosion and impact. Tires screeched. Thudded footfalls of a stealth gear shook the ground ever so gently.

“Target eliminated.” Vandenberg’s trideo chimed with the gear pilot’s voice, before the encrypted channel cut and died. The Norlight Captain continued writing.

Tragic accident.

He would have more to write tonight. Reports to alter. Files to fabricate. Prophet’s Shield was always busy.