A Call to Arms

by Bradley Hutchinson

  “And knowing you, that isn’t going to be the case.” Tears welling in her eyes, Jennifer nodded. She raged inside, but knew it wasn’t fair on any of them to unleash her fury. She’d known for some time that this could happen, and taking out her anger on her husband, or the window, or the walls, wouldn’t change that.

  “Probably not, no. They don’t let just anyone in… at least not yet.” James murmured. He reached out for her hands, and gave them a squeeze. Jennifer wasn’t sure who he was trying to reassure – himself, or her. He was probably failing on both counts. “I’m sorry, Jen. I really am.”

  “I know.” She said it so calmly, but a maelstrom of emotions was welling inside her, chief among them the thought of I didn’t sign up for this shit.

  She kept silent though – she’d had her chance to stop him, to talk him out of it. She’d been convinced that the influence the Hunter’s exuded throughout the Commonwealth would keep her husband safe. Even when James’ sister, Sarah – who had a family of her own – had gone off to fight, Jennifer had believed her husband would remain by her side.

  Obviously, she’d been foolish. Selfish even. Even as she thought this, she riled against the injustice of the universe, but ultimately, all she could do was concede defeat. “I’m sorry, too.”

  *

  “All set?”

  “All set, old man,” James said, hoisting his duffel bag over his shoulder. He’d been compelled to pack more than the bare necessities that his list had suggested, and the bag threatened to be too heavy for him to carry onboard his shuttle. “Though I thought I’d made it clear I wanted to leave on my own.” Indeed, he’d said his good byes to Jennifer and the girls earlier that morning, before being taken to the Bastion Central Spaceport by taxi; he’d been waiting in the luxury lounges ever since, content to watch the comings and goings of the spaceport until he was summonsed.

  “You did, yes,” Patrick Hunter said, shrugging away James’ comment. Approaching the middling years of his second century, Patrick Hunter barely looked older than James: crow’s feet were just in the process of forming at the corner of his eyes, his face was only just starting to fatten, and he had precious few grey hairs. Dressed in an exquisite Amani suit, he was the quintessential businessman as he stood before James, a pair of aides – junior ones, from the looks of them, hanging around a respectful distance away.

  The spaceport James was set to depart from was a series of concentric rings, the outermost circle being over eight kilometres across. A fifty-storey tower jutted out from the centre of the complex, and comprised landing and cargo bays, with a hotel occupying the top twenty floors of the tower. The noise pollution of antigrav generators, ion engines and who-knew what else was exceeded only by the smell of industrial solvents, fumes and sweat.

  “But I didn’t want you to be alone for your last few minutes on your homeworld.”

  “Oh,” James replied. “Did you see Sarah off when she left?”

  “I did… even though she protested just like you did.” Patrick smiled softly, frowning as he studied James’ expression, squinting against the glare from the engines of a departing freighter as it barrelled towards the sky. “She also had that look you have.”

  “What look would that be?” James asked, curious. He wasn’t aware he had any particular facial expression at the moment.

  “That you’re doing the right thing.”

  “I am doing the right thing,” James affirmed, almost defensively, his lip curling up in a sneer. “Despite whatever Troy thinks.” He loosed a brooding sigh. “I’m just not happy on missing out on the girls growing up. I knew what I’d have to sacrifice to serve but… I just didn’t anticipate feeling this shitty when – if – it happened.”

  He left unsaid that, even if the war finished tomorrow, there was plenty of reconstruction that the military would have to do, which meant no one would be going home in a timely manner.

  “I had similar feelings when Elijah was born,” Patrick admitted. “Did you know I signed up to fight against the Ven’do’mar?”

  James shook his head. “That’s a name we haven’t heard in a while,” James muttered. After a fierce, but short, border skirmish (that the Commonwealth had won), the insectoid species had turned turtle, not having made any attempt at expansion for almost seventy years. The Commonwealth kept a close eye on them, in case that attitude changed, though it was believed that, because of their isolationism, the Ven’do’mar were now technologically outmatched by the ever-growing Commonwealth.

  “Quite,” Patrick continued. “Eli had just been born, as I said, and the Commonwealth was smaller… well, I felt it was my duty to sign up, and fight for king and country.”

  James frowned, thinking. “I thought you didn’t fight in the war?”

  “I didn’t. By the time I finished basic training and arrived at the frontlines for field experience, I was told the war was over and we could go home.” Patrick gave a rueful smile. “That was my contribution to the war effort. My point is, I had the same look you did when I went to ship out.”

  “Somehow I don’t think the war will be over by the time I reach the front lines.” James nodded slowly. “I must confess, I’m a little afraid.”

  “Of dying?” Patrick sounded surprised, and for good reason. Every member of their family had stored genetic and neural backups in case of death – within two years of dying, a clone could emerge and take over from where the old body left off from. ‘Death’ was only feared by those who couldn’t afford to be reborn.

  “That too,” James said, not looking forward to missing years of existence while his clone grew, and trying hard not to dwell on it. “And also, of losing.”

  “As well you should be,” Patrick said, nodding approvingly, a smile creeping onto his lips. “The N’xin haven’t shown much in the way of mercy during their campaign of terror, so I doubt that humanity’s survivors – if there are any – will be in for a good time should you… we… lose.”

  He clasped James on the shoulder and pulled him into a hug.

  “You young people, you go off to war and you come back thinking the experience instils enough fear in you that you’ll never let such things happen again.” He grabbed James’ neck, pulling forward and holding their foreheads together. “You watch, your kids will go to war one day, James, and then you’ll find out what fear really means.”

  An uncomfortable silence descended between the two men, the noise of the world seemingly passing them by.

  “I just don’t want to regret not being around.” James pulled away. “I wasn’t intending my daughters to be raised only by their mother. When I volunteered, I didn’t actually think things would get so bad that I’d be called up. I don’t want my family – or me, if I’m honest – looking back and regretting this whole thing.” He shrugged. “After all, there are billions more who could fight.”

  “They also serve, those who stand and wait,” Patrick quoted, smiling. “But we all wage war with the past, James. It leaves its scars. Either you’ll regret going, or you’ll regret not going. But you may regret doing nothing at all the most. You could say that this is a very noble thing you’re doing.”

  “Very reassuring… and that’s almost exactly what my mother said when I told her I’d been called up.” James eyed his father suspiciously. “You’ve been talking to her, haven’t you?”

  Patrick chortled. “We still do talk to each other, James,” he chided. “Our divorce was amicable, and while we’re not the closest of friends, we do speak to each other on a semi-regular basis.”

  James shrugged, appropriately chided, and inclined his head in the direction of the spaceport. “I’d better go.”

  *

  “You didn’t try to stop him.”

  Troy hadn’t meant it to come across as an accusation, but the look his father gave him suggested that’s exactly how Patrick had taken it. The older man just held Troy’s gaze for long seconds, before fixing his sturdy gaze on the spaceport. His two aides were keeping a respectful
distance away.

  “If I thought he was making a mistake, Troy, I might have done so. But I don’t.” He paused, then fixed Troy with a penetrating stare that sent a shiver up Troy’s spine. “Do you think he is?”

  Troy did his best to remain resolute, but, under the gaze from his father, he finally broke off eye contact. “I don’t know.” Troy sighed. Despite his unknown anger towards his brother, he couldn’t begin to think of how he’d cope if James was killed, re-life policy notwithstanding. “But I hope not. He’s left a lot behind.”

  Patrick didn’t reply immediately, trying to get his large frame comfortable. “It’s his decision, Troy,” said Patrick, finally. “It’s his choice. A choice many others have made over the years… and which some have chosen not to make.”

  Troy glared at his father, arching an eyebrow, his ire piqued. He heaved a heavy sigh as the engine of their skycar came to life – within moments, the autopilot function had them in the air, dodging slow-moving traffic as it weaved around downtown Citadel as it followed its pre-programmed course.

  “What’s your point?” Troy asked as he looked out the windshield, seemingly determined not to look at his father, or even acknowledge his father’s disapproving gaze.

  Patrick sighed impatiently, and there was something in the action that snapped Troy’s head around to face him. “To disparage one sacrifice is to disparage all sacrifices made in war, Troy. I expected better from you, considering there are people out there dying so you can continue to live large and care-free.”

  Troy’s lips thinned, and his cheeks reddened, his forehead joining it as he flushed from embarrassment – it was, after all, not every day that Patrick lost his temper, especially with his adult children.

  “Point taken,” Troy finally said, his tone subdued. Patrick pondered pursuing the subject further, but decided against it. If he pushed too hard, if he tried to force Troy to change his way of thinking, he’d just drive him further away. I raised my children to be independent thinkers, and they don’t respond well to demands.

  “Glad we had this conversation, son.” Patrick smiled warmly, then pointed. “Go right, down Lexington. I’ve got a Board meeting in twenty minutes.”

  Chapter Two

  “You’re a lawyer?”

  “I was, sir.” James stood at attention as Fleet Captain Graham Kaplan, Commandant of the Naval Officer Academy, circled around him. Kaplan had so far spoken to, and dismissed, the other four officer candidates that had joined James in the CO’s office, sequestered deep within the military HQ on Elysium.

  James had been stationed on Elysium for the last four months, having been posted to the Planetary Defence Office as a glorified errand boy, and was bored out of his mind. His job was neither vital nor very challenging, and after just a couple of weeks, he’d applied to the Officer Training Program.

  “At ease, Mr. Hunter,” Kaplan said, coming to lean against his desk, arms crossed. He was a tall man, with a wiry build and very short fair hair. He was a native of Elysium, though had served all over the Commonwealth, and spoke with a slight accent that suggested a bulk of his life had been spent on Earth. “So, if you’re not a lawyer, then what are you?”

  “I suppose I am whatever you want me to be, Captain.”

  Kaplan snorted, nodding a silent salute at Hunter. “Good answer.”

  “… but I took the Officer Entrance Exam with the intent of becoming one, and doing something more than… running errands.” He failed to keep the scorn out of his voice.

  “Or milling around with the common rabble?”

  James smiled sheepishly. “I can neither confirm or deny that, Captain.”

  Kaplan chortled. “You’re unhappy in your current position?”

  “I’m willing to bet every dollar I have, sir, on the fact that I was posted where I am because some of the brass are afraid of getting me killed, and earning my father’s… displeasure.”

  “Is that so?” Kaplan’s eyes flashed as his virtual-vision worked. “There are plenty of administrative posts. JAG could always use more experienced lawyers… especially prosecutors… hmmm…” He trailed off, but held up a hand when James went to speak. “Have you ever seen your scores, Mr. Hunter?”

  “No, sir,” James confirmed. “At Basic they simply gave you a pass/fail grade. You only got a score if you failed a specific element of the course and wanted to try again.”

  “And likewise with the Officer Entrance Exams?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kaplan nodded slowly as he proceeded to walk around to the seat behind his desk. “You scored better than your sister, did you know that?” he asked, sitting down with a grace that belied his bulk. “And she did really well. She failed to rack up an official reprimand, though…

  “I had a… personal disagreement, Captain –”

  Kaplan waved him off casually, his nose scrunched up as if there was something unpleasant under his nostrils. “Your sister is a lieutenant now, a doctor serving on Celeste II, but like you, isn’t in any real danger.” Kaplan drummed his hands on the desk, seemingly indecisive. “I’ll tell you what, Mr. Hunter… I’m going to accept you to the Academy but…”

  “But?”

  Kaplan smiled. “Frankly, Hunter, with these scores, I think you’d be something of a waste, wallowing at the Academy, attending classes like some sort of plebe. Training there takes two years… eighteen months if you truly excel, and if we rush it. I think you’d do far better out in the field, learning as you go along while you work for me.” Kaplan paused as he checked a screen. “I’m going to grant you a field promotion to ensign and assign you as a deputy adjutant, for the time being. You’ll be of more use to us out here than with your nose in a book… metaphorically speaking, of course.”

  James wasn’t sold on the idea – he’d gone out of his way to avoid preferential treatment, and yet, here it was. “Is that… appropriate, Captain?”

  “I’m quite capable of determining what is and isn’t appropriate, Cadet Hunter,” snapped Kaplan sharply. “All you need to worry about is failing to live up to your potential. We are at war. I need every man I can get where I need them most, and I need every one of those men doing their best. You doing your best here won’t help us out there.”

  James nodded. “Sir, I had been hoping for a Fleet position, if and when I became an officer.”

  Kaplan scowled silently, biting his lower lip. He seemed surprised by that pronouncement. “Really… You do like the idea of danger, don’t you?” He considered. “Well, let’s make you an officer first, and get some experience under you – through the Judge Advocate office, since you already have legal experience – then you can seek a transfer, and with additional, appropriate, training, to a Fleet position out in the frontier.” He smiled. “You surprise me, Hunter – I thought a person of your…rearing… would be content to sit behind a desk.”

  “I didn’t sign up to sit behind a desk, Captain. I could have stayed home and done that… I was doing that.” James voice had hardened. “I signed up to fight. I signed up because I thought I could contribute… something.”

  Kaplan gazed at him implacably for a moment, then shrugged. “I’ll keep that in mind, Ensign Hunter.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re dismissed for the time being, Ensign. Remain on base, of course. Your paperwork will be sorted by this time tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  Kaplan studied him silently for a moment, as if he had something he wanted to say. “Just don’t fuck it up, Ensign,” Kaplan snapped. “Last thing I need is to have people whispering that the little-rich-kid bought his way into the Officer ranks without doing the work like everyone else.” He jutted his chin in the direction of the door. “Dismissed, Mr. Hunter. I’ll square this with the brass – it’s not like you’re the first person whose been put on an accelerated track… nor will you be the last. You’ll have your assignment by the end of tomorrow.”

  *

  “I really hate this place, Jen.”

 
Jennifer Carmichael – she still refused to change her name – smiled ruefully as she placed a sleeping Amanda onto her back in her crib, adjusting the volume on the nursery’s antique music box as she straightened up.

  “You wanted this, James.”

  Her husband winced as he looked into Samantha’s crib. “I know, I know, don’t start.” He held up a placating hand, despite the fact that Jennifer had no real interest in bringing up old arguments – she had accepted his decision a long time ago… she just hadn’t made peace with that decision yet.

  “I wasn’t going to,” she whispered, reaching out… and realising the futility of such a gesture – holograms weren’t solid. “Y’know, they’re almost sleeping through the entire night.”

  “Really? Is that… normal?”

  Jennifer shrugged. “I’m told it is, and Adlai did the same thing at this age.”

  “I suppose you and Troy are getting very close.” James’ voice was tinged with sarcasm… or was it jealousy? Perhaps both.

  “Well, his kid is only seven weeks older than ours…” She held his gaze, and then let out a sigh. “Okay, so Troy doesn’t shit me as much as he used to…” He stared at her impassively, unconvinced. “Okay, so he’s grown on me… a lot… since you left. Happy?”

  He followed her out of the nursery. “If you say so.”

  “I do,” she said defensively, reaching up behind her head and letting her hair out of its ponytail. “So, what’s so bad about… where you are?”

  “Aside from a tedious job that is too similar to the job – and home – I left?” he sighed. “Nothing. I just know that I could be doing more.” He shrugged helplessly. “But I’m stuck here until I have more training… or experience… under my belt.”

  “At least you’re out of danger on Elysium,” Jennifer said, before she could stop herself – he had not volunteered to put his life on the line in order to sit on the sidelines. They’d had this discussion at least twice before, and each time it had descended into an argument. “Sorry… I’m sorry. I know how frustrated you are.”