Run the Gauntlet: Echoes of War Book Six

by Gibbs, Daniel

  She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed in front of her, staring at him. “No, I didn’t. What if I had? You’d leave me? Is that where we’re at as a society now? We can’t stand someone if they possibly disagree?”

  It was David’s turn to sit mute, pondering the conversation, his actions, and words.

  “You know what, maybe you’re right. I think I want to be alone.”

  He stood and realized as he did that part of him wanted to get out of there as fast as he could. Back to my ship, back to the front. Where the only thing that matters is defeating the League. “I’m sorry.”

  “Do you love me?” Angie asked suddenly, her eyes still dripping tears.

  “Yes.”

  “More than this war?”

  “I don’t love the war. I want to finish it, once and for all.”

  As her arms dropped from their pouting stance, she stood and embraced him. “Promise?”

  “I promise.” He wrapped his arms around her tightly.

  “Don’t go. At least, not yet. I know you won’t stay the night, but please come sit with me.”

  He forced a smile to his face and took her hand in his. “Okay, but no politics, no religion, and no discussion of the war. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  * * *

  The next morning, David got up in an unfamiliar location—his apartment on Canaan. Rarely used, it was bare-bones with little character to it, limited furniture and functionality. Its interior resembled a senior officer’s quarters on a ship more than anything. He exercised by jogging around the exterior of the apartment building a few times, then showered and shaved, readying himself for the day. The night’s date with Angie wasn’t far from his mind. He replayed their conversations over and over. Even though they parted on better terms, he remained troubled.

  While he put on his khaki duty uniform and ensured his badges, pins, and rank insignia were in place, his communication device buzzed. David picked it up and glanced at the screen. A message from General MacIntosh was front and center, ordering him to the General’s office on Canaan’s central military space station before departure. Time to clear my mind of personal matters and get back in the fight.

  Interesting. I wonder what needs to be said in person, as opposed to a commlink. Before departing, he locked up everything and turned on the biometrically-driven security system. It took two hours, but he finally made it to the station and strode into a now-familiar—after three years of visits—reception area, still staffed by Major Melanie Roberts.

  “Good morning, Major,” David announced.

  Roberts glanced up from her tablet with a smile on her face. “Colonel Cohen, it’s been a while. How are you?”

  He shrugged. “Still alive, all my pieces and parts work, and I only have to get up once a night to pee.”

  She laughed loudly. “I take it you’re happy with that outcome?”

  David forced a grin. “Quite.”

  “General MacIntosh asked me to send you in as soon as you arrived, so go ahead.”

  With a slight inclination of his head, David turned and walked through the double doors into the inner sanctum of the man in charge of most of the Terran Coalition’s major new ship and weapons programs. It was as he last remembered it; an expansive area with a small table, a desk, multiple chairs, and the imposing figure of General MacIntosh. He brought himself to attention directly in front of the desk. “Colonel David Cohen reports as ordered, sir.”

  “It's General now, Cohen,” MacIntosh replied with a smirk.

  Despite the turmoil within his soul, he smiled. “I never got the insignia, sir.”

  “Ah. It just so happens I have a set of stars here for you,” MacIntosh began as he stood up. A few steps later, he removed the insignia from David’s shoulder—the golden bird of a Colonel—and replaced it with the silver star of a Brigadier General. “It looks good on you, son.”

  “Thank you, sir. It’s never been about the rank.”

  “I know. Have a seat, General.”

  David dropped into the chair nearest MacIntosh’s desk. He took in the rest of the room; still spartan as always. There was a noticeable new addition: a model of the Lion of Judah. “I suspect you didn’t ask me here to pin on the star, sir.”

  “Perceptive as always, son. No, you’re here so I can take your measure and deliver as stern a warning as I can.”

  Inwardly, David groaned. He stared at the older man and waited for him to continue.

  “I’m concerned that some within the CDF aren’t respecting the results of the election as we should. There’s also the problem of snap reactions putting significant assets at risk for little gain.”

  It was difficult for David to keep a neutral expression. “I don’t believe taking out seventy percent of the League’s ship-making ability is little gain, sir.”

  “Is that why you volunteered? Or is it because you’re mad and lashing out?”

  David closed his eyes, thoughts roiling within. I’m not a two-year-old… but I want them to pay. He opened them and stared at MacIntosh. “I won’t lie to you, sir. I’m dismayed by the election result. I also recognize that weakening the League strategically is the best out of a bunch of bad choices. I’ll do my best to accomplish the mission.”

  “And if it goes south?”

  It took him a second to realize what MacIntosh was asking was if he’d pull back in the face of certain destruction. “I remember sitting in this chair three years ago telling you my duties extended to my crew and not to waste their lives in meaningless gestures. It’s still my goal to bring every one of them home, sir. I’ll never forget it.”

  MacIntosh stood up and nodded thoughtfully. “I needed to hear you say it out loud.” He turned toward David and stared at him. “Care to tell me what’s wrong with you?”

  “Sir?”

  “Your eyes are bloodshot, as if you’ve been crying. You’ve acted like a black cloud has been following you around for months. I’m not oblivious.”

  Ugh. I don’t want to discuss my personal life with my commanding officer. “Beyond the Erhart business, I had a rough night, sir,” he said in a non-committal tone.

  “Still dating the reporter?”

  He’s like a dog with a bone. “Yes, sir.”

  “Fight about deploying again so soon?”

  “I understand her point of view, sir. Like others in my life, she wants me off the firing line. I think it's difficult for civilians to understand what we do, at times.”

  “Perhaps. Don’t go out there with a chip on your shoulder, David. The success or failure of this mission will balance on the head of a pin the entire time. I think you’re the best field commander we have, but if your head’s not in the game, you’ll doom the entire thing.”

  Yeah, no pressure. “I understand, sir.”

  “If at any time you are attacked by significantly superior League forces, and the viability of your fleet is at risk, you are to disengage and make for Freedom Station at best possible speed. Is that clear?”

  “One could argue that’s the case the moment we enter any fortified system.”

  MacIntosh smiled thinly. “You’re smart enough to know what I mean. If it looks like you will be overwhelmed, get out. We can’t afford to lose the Lion or the new anti-matter cruisers. Period.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’ll receive an updated briefing at Freedom Station, along with final replenishment. I hope you're able to pull this off. We need it, and it’ll put the League back on its heels, maybe give Fuentes the opening he needs to get a good deal. Regardless, I expect every ship you go out with to come back. That’ll be all, General Cohen.”

  David stood and brought himself to attention one last time. “I understand, sir.”

  “Good. Godspeed, you’re dismissed.”

  As he turned and walked out of the office and back toward the departure bay to take a VIP shuttle to the Lion of Judah, David was absent-minded and lost in his thoughts. It kept going through his brain: What if M
acIntosh spoke a ring of truth when he questioned my motives? The constant fight within, to keep hate for the enemy from overwhelming his humanity, was never far from the surface. I need to visit the shul. Praying before God is the only thing I can think of to calm myself before having to put on my command face and make this work.

  * * *

  CDF Orbital Drydock

  Churchill

  November 13th, 2462

  Another lovely day fixing ships and pushing paper. Such was Kenneth Lowe’s mentality as he ran his hand through the scanner. A moment later, the door to his office slid open. He walked through it to find the small room the same as he’d left it the day before. Several electronic tablets littering the desk, which had an array of knickknacks on it, including a plaque that proclaimed, “And in whatsoever you do, do it heartily as unto the Lord, and not unto men—Colossians 3:23.”

  He slid into the chair behind his desk and started to turn on his primary tablet when the door flew open, and in came Joshua Carter, his deputy, and Harold Billings, one of his most trusted employees, who he affectionally called “Master Chief.”

  “Hey, boss,” Billings said. “How are you doing this morning?”

  “Alive and kicking. What’s going on, gents? You both look awfully perky.”

  Carter and Billings exchanged a glance. “Uh, haven’t you seen your email, sir?”

  Kenneth stared at them, a quizzical expression on his face. “No, I just got here. I keep my handcomm on silent during the trip up. Makes for a better morning.”

  “Half the team’s been reassigned to the Lion of Judah. Flash traffic from General Cohen,” Carter said. “A cargo transport is on the way to pick us up.”

  “General Cohen?” Kenneth blinked. “I didn’t realize he’d been promoted. Got any idea what the scope is?”

  “It’s classified at the highest level. No details, just a list of tools we’ll need.”

  Kenneth sat back in his chair. “Okay. We’ll have to clear this with upstairs.” He reached over to his tablet, fumbled around with it, and placed a vidlink call to Margaret Lee, the owner of SSI. A few seconds later, her face appeared on the screen.

  “Your ears must be burning, Kenneth. I was just about to try and find you. We just received an urgent national security override. You’re shipping out to the Lion of Judah.”

  “We just got word here, directly from the CDF. Can you give us any insights as to what’s going on, or how long we’ll be on deployment?”

  “I have no information except an urgent, sole-source contract was awarded, and everything about it is classified. Your guess is as good as mine. Are you ready to go?”

  “Uh, sure.” What? Kenneth’s eyes practically bugged out of his skull and he felt like his head spun.

  Lee smiled. “Then do what you do best, Mister Lowe. Good day.” The screen went blank.

  “I’m coming,” Billings interjected before the other men could speak.

  Kenneth glanced up at him. “Sure, Master Chief.”

  “Now that that’s settled,” Billings replied, “I reviewed the list of who they want. Most of our electronics engineers, fabricators, and anyone with drone experience.”

  “Interesting.”

  Joshua glanced from Kenneth to Billings. “What about me?”

  “I need you to hold down the fort here, Joshua,” Kenneth said with a grimace. “I know, you’d rather come and join in on the fun.” But you’ve got young children, and I don’t.

  “Honestly, I was looking forward to not doing this anymore.”

  Carter’s admission caught Kenneth by surprise. His eyebrows darted upward. “Well, at least for now, we’re still on the clock. So, Master Chief… gather everyone up, get the list of tools they specified, and one of everything else you can think of, and get ready to load a transport. I’ll shut down here and join you shortly.”

  “You got it, boss,” Billings replied as he stood and headed for the door.

  That left Kenneth and Carter alone. After the click of the door shutting echoed through the office, Kenneth stared at the older man. “Ready to run things here while I’m gone?”

  Carter nodded. “Absolutely.”

  The earlier comment wouldn’t stop nagging at Kenneth’s mind. “So you want to rotate back toward home?”

  “Don’t you get tired of it, out here? It’s a two-hour commute each way. I’m missing out on my boys’ lives because I’m gone fourteen hours a day.”

  Kenneth frowned. “I guess I never thought of it like that. I live on the station to save money since it’s free.”

  “Shouldn’t you be thinking about settling down, having a family? I live for mine,” Carter replied.

  “Yeah, I kind of suck at the whole relationship thing, Joshua. You know that.”

  Carter flashed a smile. “You don’t have to. Smart guy, not too bad-looking. Maybe a bit fat.”

  Both men laughed. “Hey, I’ve lost weight since I started the exercise program up here. A TCMC Master Gunnery Sergeant runs it, and boy, let me tell you, he’s brutal.” Kenneth smiled, but his heart wasn’t in the banter. “You sure you’re okay back here?”

  “Yeah. I’m good, boss. I’ll hold it down while you’re running around saving the galaxy.”

  Kenneth rolled his eyes. “Saving the galaxy? Right. I can’t get through a combat evolution without peeing my pants. Oh well, let's get back at it.”

  “Sure thing,” Carter said as he stood and walked out.

  Left alone to his thoughts, Kenneth started packing up his tablet and a few other vital tools from his office. He felt almost giddy about going back to the Lion of Judah. Not that I don’t make a difference here, but I know I do there.

  5

  One of the defining features of Lawrence City was its central park. Part memorial to the exodus from Earth, part promise to future generations, it prominently stood out in the middle of the urban metropolis. It was here David found himself later in the day after his discussion with MacIntosh. Searching for something deep within his soul, he decided to walk among the monuments and try to remember what they were fighting for amid the noise generated post-election.

  A short walk from the entrance to the park was a central display that commemorated the landing on Canaan and the sacrifices of those left behind. The symbols of the majority religions of the Terran Coalition rose tall and proud: a Cross, a Star of David, and a Crescent and Star, the emblems for Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. At the base of them, a plaque stood. Though he knew it by heart, David stood and read it for what was probably the hundredth time. “As long as humans live in this universe, we pledge that never again will we take up arms against one another.”

  Hundreds of people moved through the displays, groups of children with their teachers, adults of all ages, while the background murmur of voices raged. David felt a hand touch his back and whirled around as his combat reflexes took over.

  “I’m sorry!” a young woman who looked no more than twenty-five years old said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. You are Colonel David Cohen, right?” Her long blonde hair blew in the wind.

  Being recognized in the street had become a common occurrence for him, especially after the recruiting videos the Lion’s bridge crew had done a few months prior. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, for all you do for us.”

  Civilians thanking him for his service was also a common occurrence, and while almost all adults served in the CDF, a substantial majority of them never saw combat, as it took as many as thirty thousand logistical and support troops to support a combat division of twelve thousand. “I’m just doing my job, ma’am.”

  “But you choose to do it, Colonel. That means something to me.”

  David flashed a smile. “I appreciate it.” Inside, he wanted her to go away.

  “What brings you here this morning?”

  He groaned inwardly. Can’t people take social cues anymore? Short, curt answers mean to move along. “A walk in the park before heading back to my ship.”
/>   “You sort of looked like you were searching for something.”

  “Oh?”

  “The way you were staring at the inscription. I thought you might be looking for inspiration.”

  “I’m afraid you have at a disadvantage, Miss…?”

  “Leah. Leah Schultz,” she said and stuck out her hand.

  After staring at it for a moment, David shook it. “Sometimes, I come here to remind myself what we’re fighting for, and why it’s important.”

  “Did you find it?”

  He glanced at the three symbols once more. “Yeah, I think I did.”

  “Then it was worth it,” she replied with a smile of her own.

  “I’d better be getting going. Got to get back to my ship.”

  “Godspeed, Colonel,” Leah replied as she smiled and turned away.

  “Godspeed,” David called after her, feeling oddly refreshed from the conversation. It left him with a sense that there were plenty of people out there who understood the stakes, and that realization gave him strength in his soul. He started to hum a tune as he walked toward the nearest mass transit station.

  * * *

  CSV Tucson

  Canaan Orbit – Outside the Lawrence Limit

  November 14th, 2462

  “Nav, reverify range to Sierra One,” Mancini said, staring straight ahead at the helm controls, which had been renamed “pilot controls” a few years back, for reasons he couldn’t fathom. The control room was a beehive of activity as they closed in on the Lion of Judah—designated as Sierra One.

  “Conn, navigation. Range to Sierra One is eight kilometers. Effective speed one hundred meters per second, relative.”

  “Pilot,” Mancini began. That word is always so foreign on a ship. “Reduce forward speed to seventy-five meters per second.”

  “Conn, pilot. Slow forward speed to seventy-five meters per second, aye aye, sir,” the enlisted rating who controlled the helm console replied.