Spencer took a few steps and invaded Okafor’s personal space. “I don’t care. Have it done by 1300 hours. Are we clear?”
There was a certain tension in the room as the interaction between the two men played out.
Okafor assumed a rigid posture before he replied. “Crystal, sir.”
“Thank you, General. One note to everyone here—you’ll notice the CBI director is present.”
A white-haired man that David recognized from previous interactions stood and turned around. He was Gideon Yoram—head of the Coalition Bureau of Investigation. “I would like to advise you everything said in this room is classified at the highest possible level. Should anyone,” he began as his eyes swept the room, seemingly making eye contact with every person, “or their associates leak the details of the conversation, or our plans to attack the League, I will find you. Treason will be the charge. That is all.”
Another hush swept the room, leaving David with an uneasy feeling. It doesn’t feel like it should. We’re supposed to be united, not threatening each other over leaks. He understood why, though. Throughout the recent presidential campaign season, there had been numerous instances of classified information magically showing up in the press to support various politicians. Both sides appeared to be guilty of it.
“Very well. Dismissed,” Spencer announced, and immediately, those assembled started walking out. He was one of the first to leave, whisked away by the ever-present close protection officers.
David stood and waited. He decided he wanted to talk to General Pipes, as they hadn’t been in the same room in years. “Hey, you guys go ahead without me. I need to have a private conversation,” he said toward Calvin, Aibek, and Amir.
“You got it, sir,” Calvin replied for the group.
It took a few minutes, but the two of them were finally left alone in the theater. David climbed onto the stage, where Pipes was packing up a small briefcase. “Sir,” he began. “It’s good to see you again, in the flesh.”
Pipes turned and smiled. “Jason! It’s been too long. I’m so proud of what you’ve accomplished these last couple of years.”
A look of confusion passed over David’s face as he processed the name—it was General Pipes’ son, who’d passed away many years before.
“I’m sorry, David. I…” The older man’s voice trailed off.
In that moment, David knew what he’d always suspected—the check-ins from time to time, the mentoring, the advice—was more than just the professional guidance of a superior officer or a friend. They were the genuine concern of a man who saw something of his child in another. It was enough to nearly cause an emotional outburst right there. It took all of his concentration not to cry. “It’s okay, sir. I understand. I’ve missed you too. This war…. It doesn’t leave us much time for vacations or trips off-planet to see friends.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“So, how’d you get here? Last time we talked, you were working logistics for General MacIntosh.”
A grin broke out across Pipes’ face. “It started with a thought, that General Erhart wasn’t entirely wrong about putting the hurt on the League on their home turf. Oh, his methods were horrific, and what he did was beyond disgusting. But that was the genesis of the idea.”
David frowned intently and closed his eyes. Erhart was a stain on the entire CDF. “I was there, sir. The Lion was one of the ships Coalition Intelligence brought in to stop him. He disgraced his uniform and everything we hold dear.”
“The less said about him, the better, then?”
“I only hope he’s being worked to death in Lambert’s Lament,” David replied, his voice cold. What’s happening to me? I used to show compassion.
“How’s the ship?”
“The Lion of Judah? Amazing. It’s an incredible honor to command her. The crew has seen us through some tricky situations in the last couple of years. Your guidance has too.”
“What do you mean, son?” Pipes asked, a puzzled look on his face.
“Every time I get into a difficult situation, I think back to your mentorship. In almost all situations, the thought ‘what would Benson Pipes do’ runs through my head. You’ve helped me in more ways than you’ll ever know, sir.” David struggled to keep the tears at bay. And you were more of a father to me than you knew.
“I didn’t do anything special, son. You’re intelligent, driven, and naturally gifted for command. You would’ve figured everything out on your own.”
David smiled. “Perhaps, but I lacked wisdom. Wisdom comes only with experience, or by guidance from someone who went before. You helped me not to make those mistakes—mistakes that would’ve cost a lot of good people their lives.”
Pipes reached out and squeezed David’s shoulder. “Knowing you need training would seem to me to be the mark of wisdom, son. I’m glad I was able to help.”
“Do you have time for dinner, sir? I’d love to catch up more than just a few minutes here in this room before I go on this mission behind enemy lines.” David left off the more obvious thought—it might be the only chance they got.
“I’d love to. We need to celebrate your star too. Not every day you get promoted to general. Got any recommendations?”
“As long as it’s kosher, I don’t care,” David replied with a laugh. Funny, I always thought pinning on a star would be one of the highlights of my life. It’s like it didn’t even register until he said something. As they walked away, he continued to ponder that line of thought.
* * *
Major Nathan Mancini glanced around the cramped control room onboard the CSV Tucson, a Growler class stealth raider. They’d been in space on deep space interdiction patrol for ninety days. Another successful mission. Mancini was looking forward to quality downtime planetside while Blue crew—stealth raiders maintained two separate teams called “Gold” and “Blue” so they could be active nearly one hundred percent of the time—headed back to the front the following week. Most importantly, none of his crew had perished during their time in space. This time. He pulled his uniform sweater down, its black wool showing signs of needing to be replaced through excessive fuzzballs. His shoulder contained a country patch for the United States and a religious flag for the Roman Catholic church—one-half yellow, one-half white, with the Holy See’s coat of arms on the white side.
“Conn, Navigation. Exiting wormhole in three, two, one, transition complete,” the navigator announced from her station, directly fore of his chair.
“Conn, sensor control. Scope is clear,” the voice of his lead sensor technician called through the intercom between the control room and the sensor compartment.
“No time to get complacent, ladies and gentlemen,” Mancini remarked with a grin. “Navigation, plot a final jump into Canaan orbit.”
“Skipper, getting flash traffic for you, sir. COMRAIDFOR, marked urgent and classified,” a rough, deep voice belonging to Master Chief Abraham Cosentino, the Chief of the Boat—also known as COB—on the Tucson.
“COB, pipe it to my office. XO, you have the conn. Continue navigation evolution. I want to be jumping into Canaan’s skies before the end of the hour.”
“Aye aye, sir. This is the XO, I have the conn,” Captain Patrick Godat announced from his spot in the XO’s chair, directly to port of the CO’s chair. He was on the tall side for raider crew; his uniform had the flag of New Israel, without a religious emblem.
Mancini stood and squeezed between his seat and the one directly to its side, manned by an enlisted soldier monitoring an auxiliary engineering console. The room itself was roughly rectangular-shaped, ringed by consoles and computer screens, with numerous switches and dials. The CDF didn’t believe in fancy touchscreen displays—instead, they used old-style controls for reliability and ease of training. Everything was marked. He exited into the passageway beyond; it was small enough that two people passing in the opposite direction had to square themselves sideways. A short walk later, and he was in the cubbyhole of an office that consisted of a f
old-out desk, a chair built into the wall, and a station for his tablet.
It only took a minute to engage the encrypted communication. General Douglas Byrnes, commander, raider force—known as COMRAIDFOR—appeared on the screen. “Go for encryption scheme blue, Major.” The man’s blonde hair was cut to regulation standard, while his blue eyes appeared downcast.
“Encryption scheme blue selected, General.”
“I hope you’re sitting down.”
“Only just so, sir. You know how cramped these Growler boats are.”
Byrnes grinned and shifted in the vidlink’s field of view, bringing his left shoulder into focus. The flag of the Irish Republic sat in the country position, while the same Roman Catholic emblem as Mancini’s was directly below it. “You know what sucks about getting promoted? I can’t go out on patrol and hunt for Leaguers anymore. Ah, it’s a young man’s game, I’m afraid. I’ve been reviewing your logs. Excellent job this time out. I’ve got some good news and some bad news for you.”
He’s keeping us out. Mancini frowned. “Sir?”
“Good news is, you get to help put the hurt on the League. The bad news is, no break for Blue crew.”
Mancini found himself unable to wipe the frown away. “I see, sir. May I ask why?”
“Well, aside from it’s an order and that’s enough of an explanation, you’re the closest boat to Canaan, with no crew losses, no battle damage, and you’re my best CO. Gold crew for the Tucson is untested, at best. Ever met the commander of the Lion of Judah?”
“No, sir, just a raider driver. I don’t get to rub elbows with royalty.”
Byrnes roared with laughter. “I hear he’s okay. But you’ll get to find out for yourself. The Tucson will be meeting up with her, and you’ll be transiting out to Freedom Station, docked in one of her fighter hangars.”
“What?” Mancini asked, his voice incredulous as his jaw dropped open.
“It’ll fit. They measured repeatedly. You’ll be briefed en route, in person. It’s the highest-level need-to-know. I don’t even know what you’ll be doing, to be blunt.”
“I don’t suppose we can let our families know we’ll be late?”
“Super generic. No mention of destination; in fact, I don’t want you to tell your crew where you’re going until the Tucson is docked and the Lion is underway. Clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Take care of yourself out there, Mancini. Godspeed.”
“Godspeed to you too, sir.”
The vidlink screen shut off, leaving him staring at an interface to the tablet. He set it down and leaned back in the incredibly uncomfortable seat. My crew deserves a break. That’s the entire point of the Blue/Gold system. Setting those thoughts aside, he stood and mentally prepared himself for the unenviable task of telling a hundred and eighteen soldiers who’d not seen their families, even on a comms line, for three months, that’d it be longer still.
4
David glanced around a nondescript street in the middle of Lawrence City, the capital of Canaan. He’d just parked his helicar, locked it with a touch of his fingerprint, and started walking the now-familiar steps to Angie’s apartment. A style called a loft, it was all the rage amongst urbanites at the moment. After being on top of so many people in a starship for months on end, I’d prefer to go live in the countryside. He smiled to himself. They’d had a pre-arranged dinner, but it had special significance to him now, as tomorrow, the Lion would be shipping out for Freedom Station. He walked up the steps and rang the bell for her unit.
A moment later, the door swung open, and there stood Angie in a black and white polka-dotted dress, looking as if she was ready to go out for a night on the town. A huge grin was plastered across her face. “Hello, stranger.”
Oh, wow. She looks amazing. His jaw dropped open a bit, and his cheeks turned red. “I didn’t realize we were going out. I would’ve worn something a bit more, well, nice.” He had on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
“Get in here.”
Face still red as an old-time fire engine, David strode into the house. He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.
“Still can’t give me a real kiss, eh?”
“You know I’m Orthodox.”
“Oh? I didn’t realize,” Angie replied with a well-practiced eye roll. “I ordered our dinner from an Orthodox restaurant, so you wouldn’t break kosher.”
He wrapped his arms around her and gave a hug. “Thank you. I know my customs might seem odd at times.”
“I still don’t understand why you can’t tear toilet paper on Saturday.”
David laughed. “How are you doing?” he asked as they walked together toward the kitchen area through her living room, which was decorated in a modernist style with no knick-knacks and few pictures.
“It’s been a long campaign. I’m glad it’s over. Looking forward to a different assignment and an end to the war.”
The table was set with a white cloth, silverware, and a lit candle. It struck David as incredibly romantic, as almost out of a holomovie. He felt horribly underdressed and more than a bit sheepish. Taking a seat with the place setting that had a larger glass of water, he flashed her a smile. “It looks amazing. Thank you.”
She sat too and gazed across the table at him. “I’ll let you pray,” she began as she reached out with her right hand.
David took the offered hand in his and closed his eyes. “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, Who brings forth bread from the earth. Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, through Whose word everything comes into being.” He glanced up and opened his eyes. “Steak, potatoes, and what appears to be wheat bread. My favorite.”
“Hey, I remember what you tell me,” Angie said, still grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve really missed you these last months, David.”
“I’ve missed you too.”
“What are we going to do with all this time?” She took a bite of food as she spoke. “Will you get a shore rotation?”
He grinned. “I take it you’ve been studying up on CDF terminology?”
“Yeah. That’s okay, right?”
“It’s cute.”
Inside, David dreaded telling her he was going out yet again. I wonder if this is how my dad felt when he had to tell Mom there was another deployment. They made small talk throughout the dinner, while he continued to avoid the subject.
“Do you think you could take some time off next week?”
He closed his eyes.
“Hon, what’s wrong?”
“I won’t be here next week.” The words fell out of his mouth like a hammer.
At first, her jaw dropped open, then she bit her lip, and her voice sounded like she was about to cry. “Why? Everyone’s saying the fleet is on stand down.”
“The Lion of Judah has a mission. I can’t discuss the specifics as it’s highly classified.”
“How long?”
David sighed and glanced away from her. “A couple of months.”
“Months?”
“At least two.”
“Why? You’ve been in the Orion spur for the last six months. You’re due downtime. The entire crew is!”
“I volunteered, Angie.” He spoke quietly, and the silence that followed was deafening.
She stared at him, mouth agape. “Why, David?”
“Because it’s a mission I can help with. They need me and the Lion. It came with a promotion… I got my first star.”
Angie folded her hands in front of her. “I hope it keeps you warm at night,” she replied, voice dripping acid.
Well, there goes the evening. He sat back in his chair, unsure what to say. “I’m sorry. I clearly hit a nerve.”
“Hit a nerve? I’ve been waiting for so long for us, David. Now you tell me you're going off to fight again, and you got a promotion, so it’s all better?” she practically shouted. “I remember when you told me how much you hated war. That you wanted to be a rabbi and teach people how to be better, rather than
kill them. Why is it, then, that you sign up for missions and keep moving on with your career?”
Anger started to take over within David. She doesn’t understand. He stood and bent over the table. “I don’t relish what I’m doing, Angie, but evil must be opposed. That’s my job—and I’m good at it. The League can’t be trusted, ever.”
“So it’s up to you to police the universe?”
“Not alone, but I have a part to play.”
She started to cry, softly at first, then louder, as tears poured down her face. “When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
“When were you going to tell me?” she asked, her voice a plaintive wail.
“I was trying to find the right time. I… I’m sorry.” David’s head dropped, and shame swept over him. “Maybe I should go. I’m not helping anything here.”
“Oh, so the going gets tough, and you bail out? You don’t do that out there.”
“What do you want from me, Angie?” he asked quietly. “You knew what I was, and what my job was when we started this.”
“The war’s over, David. The Liberals lost and the Peace Union won. Why can’t you accept it and let go of having to destroy the League!”
The impact of her words was akin to a mental sledgehammer hitting David in the head. He found himself searching within. The war isn’t over. The League will be back. I know this is true. “No… it’s not. The League is evil. Pure evil. It can’t be reasoned with. We’ve come this far. We have a duty to press on and finish the job!”
She sat mute, staring at him.
“Too many people—tens of millions of soldiers and civilians—have paid the ultimate price over the last thirty years, Angie. I’ve put the best parts of my life into this war; my best friend died because some piece of crap Leaguer lied about a peace deal.” David’s voice steadily rose in volume. The pain and agony poured out of him. “If we stop now, it’ll all be for nothing. They’ll have died in vain.”
“I don’t believe that’s true.”
“Did you vote for Fuentes too?” David spat, his tone one of accusation.
Run the Gauntlet: Echoes of War Book Six Page 4