A Call to Arms

by Bradley Hutchinson

  It would be some months before it was redeployed, and its next mission was uncertain… not that Hawthorne was to be its CO for much longer anyway. A desk job awaited him, on whatever planet suited his needs in this post-war period. It was even possible that he may never set foot on a warhip again, at least not in an official capacity.

  That thought sobered him… maybe even scared him. He’d spent a good portion of his life in the Navy, and, having reached the highest rank imaginable, he had no idea of what life outside it would entail.

  “Before we get carried away,” he said, calling their attention to him, and his attention away from his foibles, “There’s something I want to get out of the way.” He paused, steeling himself to deliver the news. “High Command has decided that, with the war over and rebuilding underway, new leadership is needed out here on the frontier. With that in mind, I’ve been recalled.”

  As expected, there was a tense, muted silence in the room, interrupted only by the background hum of the engines.

  “They’re retiring you?” Captain Garret asked, aghast. Captain’s Hunter and Musashi, standing on either side of Garret, were frowning severely, and Hunter seemed poised to say something, but a calming hand on his forearm from Captain Carmichael kept him silent.

  “Not exactly,” Hawthorne assured them, though Garret’s observation was probably close enough to the truth. “I’m retaining my position as Supreme Commander, but I’ll be probably be based out on Earth, overseeing the rebuilding efforts from Istanbul. Admiral Tianpei is replacing me out me in six weeks. He’ll be the head of operations in the Outlying Regions, based on Elysium, from now on.”

  Hawthorne had to supress a smile as he observed some of the looks on his subordinates – friends – faces. Tianpei was a career bureaucrat, having been the Navy’s liaison to the Commonwealth Military Oversight Committee for the last ten years, making him even less popular than the likes of Admiral Halsey. A likeable enough fellow, Hawthorne conceded, but a stickler for rules and procedure – which automatically meant the group assembled here would dislike him.

  Captain Carmichael, of the Endurance and the most recent – and junior member – addition of this eclectic group, shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. He’s a bureaucrat. If a crisis unfolds out here, we’ll be screwed.”

  “Not quite as ridiculous as that DMZ,” Hunter added, his lip curled up in a vicious sneer. Hunter’s pronouncement was met with a chorus of agreement from most of those assembled. As always, he’d been quite vocal about his opinions to his comrades, most of whom agreed with him.

  It was almost a shame Hunter was set on a civilian life – he had many supporters, both among the officer corps and certain interest groups in civilian circles back in the Core, and it wouldn’t take much effort to get him into the admiralty.

  Unfortunately, Hawthorne had come to realize early on that, while their military goals were sympatico, their post-war aims would be quite different from each other: Hunter was more of a hawk or maverick, favouring a big stick approach to both the N’xin and the rebuilding process than the speaking softly approach the Commonwealth had adopted.

  Hawthorne faced a gruelling enough challenge as it was, from the various political and special interest groups – to say nothing of the residual N’xin threat – he couldn’t afford to be fighting a civil-war within his own ranks.

  “I didn’t bring you here to debate public policy,” Hawthorne said, smiling reassuringly as he raised a calming hand. If he didn’t head them off now, they’d go on for hours – they’d all inundated him with protests over the new treaty, so much so that he’d issued a fleet-wide memo, rather than respond to each one individually.

  If he was honest with himself, he didn’t much like the terms of the peace treaty either – especially that damnable DMZ, which he truly despised the idea of – but, just like Churchill in 1945, the man to lead his people to victory was not destined to lead them during a time of peace. Within a year, he knew, he’d be asked to retire, put out to pasture like any old cow that had served its purpose.

  It isn’t that I want to continue the war, it’s just that I want the peace to be built upon a solid foundation. It was his opinion – and, most likely, the opinion of the everyone in this room – that this foundation was solely lacking. The anger stemming from the border colonies – who were now rendered essentially defenceless – was almost palpable, and Hawthorne knew it was only a matter of time before that turned into violence. The question is, who will that violence be directed towards?

  “Even if I agreed with you,” he said diplomatically, smiling sardonically, “I’m powerless to do anything about it... as are you. We’re soldiers, so we’ll follow orders. We’ll just have to trust that history won’t look back at this and declare it a mistake.

  “Anyway, some of you will have received an early Christmas present as a token of my appreciation,” Hawthorne said, nodding in the direction of Hunter, Chisholm and Numberi – all of whom had made it clear they wanted out as soon as possible. Hawthorne extended a hand to them. “Congratulations, guys, you’ll all be going home soon.”

  The relief from the three officers was almost palpable as they came to shake his hand. Hunter, as usual, was quick to reign in his emotions as he thanked Hawthorne, returning to his spot in the circle without further conversation.

  Hawthorne reached back for his wine, raising his glass high above his head. “Five years ago I didn’t know who most of you were, but I don’t know if I could have won the war without you. So, I’d just like to make a toast: to the heroes of the Commonwealth, past, present and future. May they, or the part they played, never be forgotten.”

  *

  “Come!” James barked as the door to his quarters chimed. Even as the doors whisked open, he kept his back to it, intent on emptying out what amounted to his wardrobe – he’d seen larger broom closets, in all honesty, but, even on a ship as big as the Carpathia, space was at a premium.

  “Your shuttle is standing by, Captain.”

  “Thanks, David,” James said as he turned around, hands full of clothes – uniforms, off-duty coveralls and son on. He’d managed to accrue a fair few garments over the last couple of years. He smiled as he nodded in the direction of the chair behind his desk. “Have a seat, I won’t be much longer.”

  “I thought you would have packed already.”

  “Yeah… I’d have thought so too,” James admitted, debating whether to fold his uniforms or not. “Technically, I am packed,” he gestured to a lone suitcase sitting idly by the door. “I’m just… spring cleaning. Don’t want the next guy to have these quarters cursing my name across the quadrant,” he grinned ruefully, holding up a jacket. “Why, are you in a rush to get rid of me?”

  David smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. If anything, he looked a little mournful, his face almost as dark as the uniform he was wearing. “Not at all,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “But I am curious as to who my new CO is going to be. We still haven’t received a communique from High Command about it, and we’re nearly docked.”

  James pointed to a datapad that was sitting on his desk. “Read that.”

  David cocked his head at him and frowned, momentarily puzzled, then did as he was told. It was a short read, and it raised his eyebrows as a smile – a genuine one, one that reached his eyes and showed teeth. “Me?”

  “You’ve been my XO on this ship since I took her over, Dave.” James nodded once. “I think it’s time you rated command of something bigger than a frigate or destroyer. You did, after all, help me – help us – win a war.” James shrugged. “But if you want to go back to that rickety barge they gave you for those scouting missions early last year, I’m sure High Command can replace you…”

  “There was nothing wrong with the Valiant,” David protested, smiling. “Much.”

  “It was the size of a broom closet,” James pointed out sarcastically. “And broom closets probably creak less.”

  “She got the job done,” David
replied, leaning back in his seat and resting his hands behind his head. “Mostly.”

  James shrugged as he sealed shut the wardrobe doors. “Alright, then, since you don’t want it…”

  “I didn’t say that!” David said, sobering as James approached him. He rose, making a half-hearted effort to stand at attention – like James, he’d never been big on formalities. “I appreciate your confidence in me, Captain.”

  James extended a hand, and David took it eagerly. “David, you’ve been by my side for the last two years. You deserve this… as much as I deserve to go home to my wife.” James’ heart skipped a beat at the thought of going home – he’d been doing his best not to get too excited. After all, there’s always a chance the N’xin will break the cease-fire, and back into the fires of Hell we go.

  Instinctively, he glanced out the tiny viewport his quarters were afforded, taking solace in the starscape beyond. He would miss this view… he’d miss space, in general, actually. A tiny part of him wanted to remain on the Carpathia, and travel the stars.

  James let out a depressed sigh. It was time for him to leave his home.

  How long have I been calling this place home? The thought privately terrified him – this ship, like the uniform, was never meant to be a home for him… it was a duty.

  He shook the thought off. He was about to be free. Dwelling on those negative feelings wasn’t going to accomplish anything except make him more depressed about his life choices. He didn’t need that… and Jennifer certainly didn’t.

  “Well, David, the ship is yours,” he said, clapping his former First Officer on the shoulder. David surprised him and pulled him into an embrace.

  “Someone will come and dispose of that stuff soon,” James said when he was released, cocking his head in the direction of the bed, upon which his old laundry – and everything else he didn’t want – waited to be thrown out. “I don’t need or want any of it… help yourself though.” He grinned, his eyes twinkling.

  “I’ll escort you to the shuttlebay,” David said, falling into step beside James in the empty corridor beyond. Most of the crew was preparing the ship for a resupply and minor refit. The area of the ship where the crew quarters were located was practically deserted; the engineering sections, however, were a hive of activity

  “You just wanna make sure I leave.” James smirked as David mimicked a guilty look. “I knew you couldn’t wait to get rid of me and take my chair.”

  David shrugged. “I’m actually having the chair replaced as we speak.”

  James offered him a filthy look before his face broke out in a grin. “I hate you.” He extended a hand. “Serving with you was an honour, David.”

  David took the hand and pumped it firmly, holding onto it for a long second afterwards. “The honour was mine, Captain.”

  *

  “That’s the last of it.”

  “Good to hear,” Lauren Carmichael said, frowning as she surveyed the chaos that had engulfed the hangar facilities of the Endurance. Everywhere she turned, cargo pellets stood-by in barely-controlled chaos, a legion of technicians in the process of transferring them over to secure storage in the bowels of the ship. “This is a warship, not a freighter.”

  “Yes, well, we cannot run the risk of pirates ruining these things, looking for a quick buck.” Alice Chamberlain offered her a smile that bordered on mocking, if not for the fact that Lauren had her pegged as an eternally cheerful person. Her eyes darted across Lauren’s service ribbons that adorned the breast of her jacket, settling onto her rank insignia. “Fleet Captain? I thought you guys drove those big dreadnaughts, not these tiny cruisers.”

  Lauren let the slight against the size her ship slide – at nearly five hundred metres long, there was nothing tiny about it. “I only got promoted nine months ago… and I’m in line to get the Reaper, once it’s completed,” Lauren said, still somewhat in awe. She shrugged. “In the meantime, I’m content to command the RRT from the Endurance.”

  “Indeed,” Alice murmured, clearly uninterested in Lauren’s career path. “Anyway, I would have thought, as a soldier, you’d appreciate the need to rebuild the worlds we’ve lost.”

  Lauren sighed, eyeing a crate of seedlings destined for the ruined world of New Baltimore. Ten years after that world had been devastated, and the survivors of that tragedy were determined to restore their world to its former glory.

  “I do,” Lauren admitted. “And I know the Commonwealth should be grateful that your husband has such an… organic archive on hand in order to help return these worlds to their… natural evolution.”

  “Elias has been working on this project since before I graduated high school,” she said proudly, smiling broadly as she looked over at her husband, who was deep in conversation with Commander Bartholdy as a young boy – introduced to her as Noah – buzzed around them. She was pretty enough at the best of times, but when she smiled, Lauren thought that she was one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen. “Not that he ever thought he’d ever have to use it for these purposes.”

  And just like that, her tone became bitter, her face scrunched up in annoyance, but after a few seconds it was gone, replaced by a rather ironic smile. The change in mood did nothing to mar her beauty, and Lauren felt a pang of jealousy – despite her own pedigree, she couldn’t help but feel inferior to the woman.

  “Yes,” Lauren said, drawing the word out like a sigh she regarded Alice steadily. The woman wasn’t much taller than Lauren, but was much lither and limber than Lauren, who had developed quite the soldier’s build over the last couple of years. “You used to serve, didn’t you?”

  Alice frowned, nodding cautiously. “Yeah, used to,” she said, her glance flicking towards the young adolescent in the far corner of the hangar. “But I was… blessed… with Noah, and had to leave.”

  Lauren noted her peculiar use of the word blessed.

  “He wasn’t planned?” Lauren asked diplomatically, trying to be both politely interested and not terribly nosey at the same time. Unplanned pregnancies were so rare these days, they were in danger of becoming an urban myth.

  Alice smiled sweetly, her eyes darting back through the years. “The night wasn’t exactly planned, because the week leading up to it was rather… stressful.” She shrugged. “When I refused to name my… accomplice… I was cashiered out, which meant I forfeited my pension, but I have no complaints now that I have Elias.”

  “Oh.” Lauren frowned in confusion. “So your husband –”

  “He isn’t the father, no,” Alice confirmed, finishing the question for Lauren. Far from being offended by Lauren’s inquisitive, she seemed flattered at the attention – probably because she was always playing second fiddle to her more famous husband. “But he’s been great, really taking on the challenge… I’ve only known Elias for ten years… married to him for six. And no, I didn’t marry him for the money, if that’s what you were thinking.”

  “I wasn’t,” Lauren countered swiftly, but not totally honest – the thought had crossed her mind. Not that I can judge – how many of my in-laws have married into the Carmichael family because of our money? “So, I know your collection of Commonwealth flora is comparable to the Federal Archives that was started about a hundred years back, but what’s your collection of fauna like?”

  Alice frowned. “Nowhere near as extensive, I’m afraid,” she murmured, crossing her arms. “We’ve only just to Sanctuary to the point where it could be a viable candidate to turn it into some sort of… zoo,” Alice affirmed, a trace of bitterness returning as she glanced over at her husband again. “I’m afraid we’ll only ever be able to restore partial bio-diversity to these poor worlds. Without the animal component, there will be an absence… even something like pollination of plants might be difficult.”

  “I see,” Lauren said, her interest waning in this conversation: she’d never been overly interested in science beyond the classroom. Except for when it could be employed in a war, she amended, silently curious as to what else in he
r had changed in the last twenty years. Probably a great deal, she mused jadedly.

  “No, you don’t,” Alice said, her lips thinning. Lauren wasn’t sure if it was in annoyance or weary resignation – no doubt she’d had this conversation before. “But it’s okay. You can’t really appreciate this sort of thing unless you’ve dedicated a good portion of your life to it.”

  “Yeah, I get that,” Lauren said, growing impatient. Not only wasn’t she sure if she was being patronized or not, but the Endurance was also in danger of falling behind schedule. “Are we the final shipment bound for the Chimaera?”

  “Yes, this is the last lot of cargo for her taskforce at New Baltimore.” Alice sighed, staring intot he distance. “It’ll take us a while to grow a stockpile suitable to help repair Calder II,” Alice said, flashing a winning smile at her husband as he swaggered over holding their son’s hand. “Ready to go?”

  “Absolutely,” Elias Hunter said, somewhat eagerly, his thinning fair hair reflecting the high overhead lights of the hangar. “Your Exec certainly had a lot of questions about my project, Captain Carmichael.” Lauren thought he sounded a little mad about the impromptu interrogation. “If he finds himself in need of a job, my security division could always use someone of his experience.”

  Lauren knew a platitude when she heard one. After all, why Sanctuary would need a security division. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that, but he still has a couple of years left,” Lauren said, smiling. Corporate espionage would be the likely candidate for the need of a security division – after all, Sanctuary was on the cutting-edge of some fields of research. “And what are you going to do when you grow up, Noah?”

  “I… don’t know,” the kid said, somewhat meekly and evasively. His stepfather’s demeanour had certainly rubbed off on the youth.

  Elias smiled down at his step-son. “In any case, we’d better get going: you have a delivery to make, and we have a botanical garden to tend to.”

  Lauren nodded, gesturing towards their tiny shuttle. “You know, your brother will be on the Chimaera when we dock with them. It’s a shame you can’t come with us.”