Coalition Defense Force Boxed Set: First to Fight

by Gibbs, Daniel

  Interrupting David’s reading, the video communication program on his tablet flashed. He moved his finger over to the icon, and it showed that Lieutenant General Benson Pipes was calling him. General Pipes? I haven’t heard from him in a couple of years. They had kept in touch as much as the war would allow after David completed OCS. I’ve gotten some of the best advice I’ve ever received from him. I wonder what’s going on.

  David pressed a button on the screen, and General Pipes’s smiling face appeared on his tablet. “David, can you hear me?”

  “Yes, sir,” David said with a wide smile.

  “Go for secure.”

  David entered his personal identification number and fingerprint into the tablet. “Secure mode engaged, sir.”

  “I understand you’ve been offered command of the CSV Lion of Judah.”

  I thought that was classified. “Uh, yes, sir.”

  General Pipes laughed. “Don’t worry, David. I’m cleared. General MacIntosh spent a good while discussing your abilities with me. I want you to know how proud I am of you, son. You’ve really taken off.”

  The way General Pipes said that made David wonder what his father would have said. He would’ve been proud.

  “Thank you, sir. Much of that is thanks to your good counsel.”

  “You’re a smart kid. You would’ve figured it out.”

  David smiled. “But I didn’t have to make as many mistakes because of your advice.”

  “Well, thank you for that, David. Seems like they’ve given you a big ship.”

  “Beyond big. The biggest ship in the CDF. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s got ten three-barreled magnetic-cannon turrets, and since each one is five hundred millimeters in diameter, this thing can throw more projectiles than any ship in the fleet. The ship also has four particle cannons that are spinal-mounted, pointing dead center forward too. Testing suggests that those weapons can go in one side of a League capital ship and out the other.”

  “That’s a lot of firepower.”

  “To say nothing of its secondary energy weapon armament, our standard neutron beams, only because of the reactor attached to this thing. They’re far stronger than anything you or I have previously used in combat. There are missile cells, massive amounts of point defense…”

  “Highly augmented shields powered by the antimatter reactor give it a higher protection rating than anything in the fleet. I reviewed the tests earlier today. What’s its downside, David? Remember that everything has a downside.”

  “Typically, a military vessel tries to do one role really well. This ship tries to do all roles well. It’s got hangar space and launching ability for one hundred eighty combat spacecraft, and it also holds a Marine expeditionary unit.”

  “And in trying to do everything, it might do none of them to the degree we’d like to see,” General Pipes concluded.

  “Exactly, sir. But still, it’s an incredible feat of engineering. You know engineers… always trying to build a better mousetrap.”

  “The good news is they built one. Now we need a commanding officer for her that can make use of this hodgepodge of a ship design and take the fight to the League. Have you decided whether you’re going to accept?”

  “I signed, sir, but I’m concerned I’ll be in over my head.”

  “Wrong answer, son. I’ve known from the moment I met you that you would go on to do some great things. This is your time. This is your calling. Take command of this ship, make it into the weapon it can be, and use it to help defeat the League. Anything else is not acceptable.”

  David sat back. General Pipes’s words were said with kindness, but they were direct. “I’m not sure if I’m ready, sir. That ship is… It’s all the marbles.”

  “If we wait until we’re ready for something, we’ll never do it. You may not be completely ready for this kind of command. But you’ll figure it out. I’ve seen you do it time and again.”

  David nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Give my regards to your mother. Godspeed, David.”

  “Godspeed, sir.”

  The link cut out, leaving David alone with his thoughts for the final few minutes of his flight.

  * * *

  David’s helicar set down just outside the capital, in the driveway of his mother’s small suburban home. He’d grown up in that house. Though he’d offered to help his mother move many times, she clung to their residence and to the memories of Levi contained within it.

  The driver’s-side door opened automatically, and he got out. Visits to his mother’s home were usually bittersweet. Her concern about his well-being was always foremost on her mind along with inquiries about him settling down and having a family. David’s mother wanted grandchildren, but he had no interest in marrying and starting a family while the war was on. Not that he’d never been in love, but a lifetime of wondering if the person he loved was going to come back from a patrol alive or wondering if he would return to find that they had left him had caused him to table the matter until he found himself at peace with the universe and no longer having to go off to fight a war.

  He walked up to the front door, and the automated security cameras notified his mother of his arrival.

  Flinging the door open, she said, “David! Oh, it’s so good to see you.”

  They embraced, and she stepped back, wearing a smile. “Vidlinks are great, but nothing is quite the same as seeing you in person.”

  David winced at his mother’s choice of words, knowing he rarely visited her. “You know how it is, Mom. We’re on patrol for two straight years. I’m only home because of…” He didn’t want to tell his mother how close he’d come to death. “Of that battle.”

  “Come sit down,” she said.

  He followed her into the living room. It hadn’t changed much from the last time he visited. A picture of the three of them was displayed on the mantel along with a few from his childhood. His mother had not changed the décor in her home in more than thirty years. While he wasn’t quite sure why, she seemed quite happy, and that was what mattered. David went to great lengths to make sure that his mother didn’t want for anything, sending her a good bit of his salary, since he only maintained a temporary apartment planet-side when he came home from deployment.

  “They talked about you on the news.”

  “Ah, I wasn’t aware I’d made it to the news,” he said, trying to get her smile to return.

  “David, they said you won the battle by ramming another ship.” She gave him an unmistakable look of concern.

  “It was the only way left to defeat the enemy, Mom.”

  Sarah nodded. “I worry about you so much.”

  David fought back emotions. “I know, Mom. But I survived. Too many of those who served under me didn’t, but I did.”

  She stared at him. “You’ve got to stop blaming yourself when people die under your command,” she said in a rehash of conversations they’d had many times.

  “Are you sure you’re not a CDF counselor, Mom? Because they tell me the same stuff every time,” he said with a laugh, trying to brush it off.

  “You know, everyone in the neighborhood is talking about it. Frances Weiss said you reminded her of your father.”

  That struck a nerve with David. He sat back a little more heavily and glanced up at the picture of the three of them, which had been taken on that fateful night twenty-seven years ago. “But I came back, Mom. He didn’t.”

  She looked down for a moment and changed the subject. “How did your hearing go?”

  David perked up at the mention of the hearing. “I was cleared. General MacIntosh is offering me a new posting with his command.”

  His mother’s expression lightened a bit.

  The Victory Project, or “VP,” had been leaked to the news media several years before. Occasionally, something else would leak about it, detailing how the CDF was working on some new weapon or technology. The point had been to keep morale up, but some were not sure it had succeeded. Every few years, the Leagu
e started a new spring offensive and tried to drive farther into Terran Coalition space. Most of the time, the CDF beat them back, but they took losses in every battle. The entire war had turned into a vast war of attrition.

  “The Victory Project? Oh, that sounds wonderful. If you’re getting a posting there, will you be getting more time away from the front?” his mother asked, hope lacing her voice. She wanted him off the firing line.

  “I don’t think so,” David said.

  Immediately, her eyes dropped, and a frown formed before she quickly covered it up. It made him feel guilty for continuing in his career.

  “You know how things are. I won’t even know what I’m doing for them for a few weeks.” Not exactly the truth but better than her worrying herself to death.

  “Oh, of course,” Sarah said, still clearly worried. “Well, can you stay for dinner?”

  David smiled. “I’d love to.” He always looked forward to his mother’s cooking.

  * * *

  The following day, David waited outside MacIntosh’s office fifteen minutes before he was due for his appointment. As the seconds ticked down, he rehashed the thoughts that had been running through his head for nearly the last eighteen hours. On one hand, he had confidence in his abilities. They were tried and tested. On the other, he was continually haunted by the losses of his crewmates. In the days after ramming the frigate, he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing their faces flash in front of him. They invaded his dreams, turning them into nightmares each night. In a mandatory follow-up with a CDF psychologist, he had refrained from saying anything about the images, but he knew he was suffering from some form of post-traumatic stress disorder. David was just far too stubborn to admit it.

  Major Roberts walked out of MacIntosh’s office. “Major, the general will see you now,” she announced formally. As David nodded to her and began to walk by, she added, “Good luck. He’s been looking for the right person for this job for many months. I hope for all our sakes that you’re up to the task.”

  “Thank you, Major. I do too,” he said, still not quite sure he was the right man.

  He went through the open doors and into the office that lay beyond.

  “Major, come in,” the large Scotsman said. “Or should I say Colonel?” His face broke into a smile. “We’ll have a formal promotion ceremony later as well as a christening of the Lion of Judah once we’re sure she’s ready for primetime.”

  David grinned as MacIntosh handed him a small case with rank insignia. David snapped it open to find two gold birds—the rank insignia for a colonel. How about that—full bird. I’ve got to be the first Cohen in a few generations to get a set of those.

  MacIntosh strode from behind his desk. “Allow me.” He removed David’s existing insignia from his uniform with a minimum of fuss and attached the new ones. “Congratulations, Colonel. I’m certain you’ll justify my faith in your ability to command this ship.” With that, he walked back to his chair and sat down.

  David took his place in one of the seats before the desk.

  “I expect to have clearance for your department heading officers in the next day or two. For now, I want you to meet me on board this afternoon at fourteen hundred hours. I’m going to introduce you to Dr. Hayworth and break down the schedule for a space trial. I’m hoping to have her underway for the trial within the next two weeks.”

  David nodded. “Aye, aye, sir. The Dr. Hayworth?”

  MacIntosh smirked. “Yes, the Dr. Hayworth.”

  David raised an eyebrow. “We’re talking about the guy who gets on the holonets and says anyone who believes in a God is a fool? He deliberately insults everyone of faith—Jews, Christians, Muslims, Hindus… all of us. About the only thing I’ve got in common with him is my disgust for the League.”

  “Yes, I realize putting an atheist together with an Orthodox Jew might be problematic, but he’s the best we’ve got. His ego and condescension notwithstanding, I expect you to work with him. Do I make myself clear, Colonel?”

  David set his jaw. “Crystal, sir.”

  “I suggest you simply stay away from religion.”

  “I don’t push my viewpoint on anyone, sir.”

  “I know you don’t. But he does. It’ll be up to you to be the bigger man. I need his skills—and yours.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  MacIntosh scanned his schedule. “Excellent, Colonel. I’m moving on to my next meeting. You’re dismissed.”

  12

  Sheila stood over her ex-husband’s small, squat gravestone in a military cemetery on Canaan. Thinking over the days she’d spent with Curtis, she reflected on how her life had changed over the years. When she heard a rustling behind her, she turned and saw David approaching with a smile.

  “I pinged your comm. It said you were here,” David said.

  “I feel like I owe him visit at least once a year.”

  “I understand.”

  Is that regret in your voice, David? All you would’ve had to do is ask me to go on a date.

  “Even though it didn’t work out between us, I still loved him. God, it hurt when his sister told me he’d died in action.”

  David nodded, looking down. “So many we’ve laid into the ground.”

  “Too many.”

  “MacIntosh offered me a new command.”

  “Oh? Do we get another destroyer?”

  David smiled and shook his head. “No.” He paused. “A battleship. Something new. Big.”

  Sheila’s jaw dropped as she shook her head. “So you ram a League ship, and you get command of a battleship? Maybe if you ram that into something, they’ll give you a carrier.” At the sight of the dark look that crossed David’s face, she apologized. “Too soon?”

  “Far too soon.”

  Sheila put her hand on his. “I’m sorry. You know how I deal with pain.”

  David squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. I’m just trying to consider whether I’m the right man for the job.”

  Sheila’s gaze bored into David’s eyes. “Why wouldn’t you be?” You’re the finest commander I’ve ever seen.

  “I’ve never held more than the XO position on a capital ship—”

  “Oh no, Major Cohen. Don’t you start that with me. You know how to lead. You can lead anyone or anything and cause the group to be far more capable than the sum of its parts. Whatever this new ship is, it might be a challenge, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.”

  David smiled. “I’m going to have to find a way to keep you around. Talking to you is far better than talking to a counselor.”

  Sheila laughed. “Well, if you need an XO…”

  David frowned. “General MacIntosh refused to let me have you as the XO, but he did allow me to bring you on, if you want to, as a senior watch officer and the ship’s navigator.”

  Sheila nodded thoughtfully and paused before answering. “Well, if that’s all he’ll allow, that’s what I’ll do. I do love flying ships, you know.” She would do almost any job requested of her to serve on the same ship as David.

  His smile brightened. “Well, great. I’ll let the general know.”

  “Got any plans for tonight?” she asked.

  “None. I had dinner with my mother last night, and most of my friends are off-world on patrol.”

  “Care to join me, then? There’s a new restaurant that’s serving Turkish kabobs. I’ve been wanting to try it since our last patrol.”

  David smiled. “Of course. What time?”

  “Seven p.m. works for me.”

  “I’ll see you then,” David said and walked away.

  Watching him go, Sheila shook her head and wondered what she was going to have to do to get him to realize her feelings toward him. Men, she thought, snorting. I’ll just have to draw him a picture one of these days. Grinning, she walked back to her helicar.

  * * *

  Hanson sat in a small bar—a dive, really—called the Ready Room outside the base gates. Though the name was obviously an attempt to be cute and att
ract pilots, Hanson didn’t care. He only wanted a place to have a drink and try to forget about the events of the last week. Sitting at a table in the back of the bar, he slowly nursed a small glass of A.E. Dor, his favorite brandy. The barkeep walked up, and Hanson held out his credit chit. Without saying a word, the barkeep slipped it under the bar and into a scanner to initiate payment.

  “The same?” he asked.

  Hanson nodded.

  “So, why so glum? They turn you down for a promotion?”

  Hanson looked up. “Lost my ship.”

  “Ah, well... at least you survived, right?”

  Hanson responded with a blank stare and sad eyes, which prompted the barkeep to walk off after setting down the new drink.

  A tone came from Hanson’s personal communicator, and when he saw David’s name, he brought up the screen. Slightly buzzed, he shook his head and hoped he didn’t regret it. Hanson set his drink down and brought the phone up to his ear. “Hanson here, sir.”

  “We got another ship.”

  Hanson blinked. “Really? Cool.”

  “How about another posting as my chief engineer?” David asked.

  Hanson’s eyes widened. He had thought they would all be busted back to Second Lieutenant over the Rabin. “That’d be awesome, sir.”

  “Great. I’ll get you cleared for the program. We’ll talk soon.”

  “Yes, sir. Let me know.”

  Hanson hung up the communicator and returned to his drink, but a small smile crept across his lips.

  13

  Major Hassan Amir glanced at yet another systems report while waiting in the cockpit of his space superiority fighter aboard the CSV Pat Tillman. His HUD showed there were another nineteen minutes to noon prayers. I’m so bored that I’m counting down the minutes to pray. He was the Carrier Air Wing Commander, also known as the Carrier Air Group—or CAG—hundreds of years ago in the wet navies of the United States and Great Britain. The title was something that, even after many years, hadn’t changed in the military along with such things as doing paperwork in triplicate or hazing of the newbies. Amir’s squadron, the 85th Space Fighter Squadron of CDF Space Combat Command, was known as the Grim Reapers or the Reapers for short.