by Jay Allan
“Yes, Erik. I’m over here.” Garret was lying on the sofa, eyes closed. “What can I do for you?”
“Nothing, sir.” Cain found it hard to continue. He’d tried to think of what he wanted to say on the way to Garret’s cabin, but he’d come up blank. Now he was winging it. “I just thought we could talk.” God that sounds stupid, he thought…you hate it when people say shit like that to you.
“Sit.” Garret’s arm flopped up, pointing sloppily toward a pair of chairs. “Did you draw the short straw?”
“No, sir.” Cain sat gently in the closer chair. “Actually, no one knows I’m here. I think the rest of them will leave you alone, at least for another day or two.”
Garret let out a short, bitter laugh. “It’s going to be more than a day or two, my friend.” Garret’s voice was toneless…not sad, not angry…just dead, without any emotion. “Let me tell you a little something, Erik. I’ve made a lot of command decisions in my career…but only two I felt I couldn’t live with. The first one was a long time ago, and it almost finished me. I came this close to leaving the service.” He held up a hand, two fingers almost touching. “You know who pulled me through that?”
Cain sat quietly, listening. Garret’s question didn’t require an answer. They both knew it already.
“Well, now he’s gone…because of another command decision I made.” He was motionless, eyes still closed. “What is that? Irony? Symmetry? I’m not sure.” He was quiet for a few seconds. “But this is the one that did it. I’m out. As soon as I get the rest of the fleet safely home, the navy can have my stars back.”
“Admiral…”
“Fucking Christ, Erik, I’ll give you half a dozen more platinum stars if you cut out the admiral and sir bullshit.”
“Yes, si…Augustus.” Cain took a breath before continuing. “I didn’t come here to give you a pep talk or assure you that you did the right thing. You know perfectly well you didn’t have any choice.” Another pause. “And you also know that means exactly nothing to how you feel…to the price it rips from your soul.”
Garret finally stirred, turning his head to face Cain. “You’re really not good at this at all, are you Erik?” Garret almost let out a short laugh, but it died on his lips.
“Like I said, Augustus…I didn’t come here to bullshit you and to tell you the world’s all warm and fuzzy. We both know better.” Cain’s own voice was strained, emotional. “But this war has cost each of us our best friends.” He paused to gather himself. “I thought maybe we could talk about them for a little while. About Terrance and Darius.”
Garret pulled himself upright, sitting on the couch looking over at Cain. “I’d like that, Erik.”
Tara Rourke was sitting quietly at her post. She was worried about Garret, as virtually everyone in the fleet was. She was mourning as well. Those were her comrades too that they’d left behind…and more than one friend. She’d imagined many sorts of danger and sacrifice would be part of her military career, but in all of those thoughts she’d never considered being forced to abandon her comrades. She knew there had been no other choice, but it still felt wrong. Dirty. Cowardly. And yet somehow it was also the bravest command decision she’d ever seen. Not for the first time, she gave silent thanks that Augustus Garret was the supreme commander. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind the First Imperium would have destroyed mankind if Garret hadn’t been the supreme commander.
Despite the sadness, she could hardly believe the war was over. The fleet, and the Marines too, had worked themselves up for the fight, convincing themselves they’d find a way to win. But she wasn’t sure she’d ever really believed it…she didn’t know if any of them had. Now the war was really over. Perhaps it hadn’t been a victory in conventional terms, but the invasion had been stopped, and human space saved from destruction. Their comrades had not been lost in vain.
One of her console’s indicator lights flashed green…a message coming in from the Commnet station in the system. She pressed a small button, and the contents were displayed on her screen. She wasn’t expecting anything important, but as soon as she started reading she felt her stomach shrivel. My God, she thought. Admiral Garret has to know this immediately!
Cain and Garret were both silent. They’d talked for over two hours, about things neither man had discussed with anyone before. They were too drained to continue, but both knew they had done what had to be done. They had said their farewells to lost friends…fallen brothers.
They hadn’t showered each other with platitudes and pointless feel good nonsense. They both knew they would carry the pain of their losses as long as they lived, that time would perhaps dull the edge a bit, but nothing more. Garret hadn’t told Cain that Jax’s death wasn’t his fault, as everyone else insisted on doing. It had been, at least partially, and both men knew it. Instead, Garret had told him they all make mistakes, that Jax would have understood, would have told him the same thing. He tried to offer him the forgiveness he knew Jax would if he’d been able. Then he told a story, an old story, of how his own foolishness and recklessness had cost him someone very dear to him. It was something Garret had spoken of only once before…and never again in the almost 40 years since it happened.
“What is that?” Cain finally spoke, gesturing toward a ‘pad lying on the table between the sofa and the chairs. “If I may ask.”
“It’s from Terry.” Garret’s voice was heavy with exhaustion. “He attached a personal message to his last communique.” There was a body of text – a normal note – and below there were several columns.
“It looks like a list of planets with numbers following.” Cain had a quizzical expression on his face.
Garret’s eyes moved to the ‘pad. “They’re bank account numbers, Erik.” His voice was soft, shaky. “The legendary poker winnings of Terrance Compton. He didn’t want it to go to waste.” Garret closed his eyes tightly, breathing deeply as he sat still as a statue. “Damn you, Terry,” he whispered, his barely audible voice cracking with emotion. It was just like Compton, he thought, feeling his control slipping. He gritted his teeth and held his eyes closed tightly, but a tear still forced its way out and ran down the side of his face.
Cain started to get up. “I guess I should be leaving, Augustus.” He was sure the talk had done them both some good, but he also knew Garret’s loss was only two days old…he’d had two years to adjust to Jax being gone. He needed to give the admiral time to grieve alone. “But if you want to talk again, just com me. Anytime.”
“I will Erik.” He started to rise himself. “And Erik…thanks.”
“Like I said, admiral. Anytime.” He turned toward the door.
“I’m going to do something I should have done two days ago…something you just shamed me into doing.” Garret looked down at his rumpled uniform. I’m going to change into fresh clothes and shuttle over to Camille Harmon’s ship.” He paused. “We lost our best friends, Erik. But she lost her son.”
Cain had a pained expression on his face. He’d forgotten that Max Harmon was Compton’s tactical officer. “Do you want me to come along, admiral?”
“No Erik, I think this is my job to do. Alone.” He started walking toward the bathroom, then he stopped and turned back. “But thank you, Erik.”
“Yes, si…Augustus. All you ever have to do is ask.” Cain started walking to the door.
Garret was going to make one more stop after seeing Harmon. Elizabeth Arlington loved Compton…he was sure of that. And he knew his friend had felt the same way. They’d never had their chance together…duty had always intervened…and now they never would. Garret knew Elizabeth would be devastated, but he was just as sure she’d never let it show, not while she was in command of one of the fleet’s task forces. She might talk to him, though. And he owed it to Compton, his lost brother, to see that Arlington got through this. He still wasn’t sure how he was going to deal with it all himself, but that wasn’t going to stop him from doing his duty to Compton. No, by God…he wasn’t going to fail Compton a
gain.
“Admiral Garret…Commander Rourke wishes to speak with you.” Garret shook himself out of his deep thoughts. It was Nelson…Garret had put a block on his com, meaning anyone had to convince the AI to disturb him in order to get through. “It is extremely urgent.”
“Put it on speaker, Nelson.” He looked over at Cain. “You better stay and see what fresh disaster this is.”
“Admiral Garret, I’m sorry to disturb you.” Rourke’s voice was uncomfortable, apologetic. It was clear she’d rather be cleaning the fusion core with her toothbrush than disturbing Garret now.”
“It’s fine, commander. What is it?” Garret tried to keep his voice even, professional.
“We just received a message on the Commnet, sir.” She paused to clear her throat. “It’s from Wolf 359 III, admiral…a Gregory Sanders. He says he is the prime minster of Arcadia.”
Cain and Garret looked at each other with stunned expressions, listening intently. They remembered Greg Sanders well. He had been one of the prime movers in the rebellion on Arcadia.
“It is a text message only…no audio or video. And it’s staticky. It sounds like someone was trying to jam the initial signal.”
“Read the message, commander.”
“It says, Wolf 359 V shipyards under armed attack by forces unknown. We are scanning a group of unidentified vessels approaching Arcadia. I have placed all planetary military forces on high alert. Will report further, if possible. Sanders, Prime Minister, out.”
Garret and Cain stared at each other in stunned silence. Finally it was Cain who spoke first. “It’s time to get home, sir.”