Pushing those thoughts out of his head, he tried to focus on the task before him, ensuring as much as he could that the killing stopped.
The chime to his door sounded.
“Open.”
Sheila strode into David’s cabin, put together and ready to go. “It’s almost time. Done preening yet?”
“You know I hate dressing up.” Sometimes I wonder at how she teases me. It’s almost like she—likes—me.
Sheila laughed. “I’d enjoy it more if these uniforms were remotely flattering.”
David couldn’t stop himself from snickering, which got him a withering look. “How are preparations going?”
“The mess stewards are preparing the meals using VIP fresh food for once. The honor guard and band are in place. I have to tell you—no one is interested in hearing the League anthem played.”
“I prefer the basic frozen meals.” David finished fastening his final medal. “Getting invited to the chief’s mess is even better, though.” He turned to face her. “Are you okay, Sheila?”
“I’m just worried, David,” she said. “I know you’re hoping this turns out for the best, but now they’ve got the man who killed your father here.”
“I know, but I’m not upset about it. He was the guy in charge, sure, but not the man who ordered the attack,” David replied, but that wasn’t entirely true. As much as he tried to suppress it, he couldn’t push out of his mind that Seville was the evil that had caused twenty-seven years of war. He ought to pay for what he’s done.
“David, I know you better than that. I know you’re bitter about it, but you can’t let that get to you.” Sheila put a hand on his arm. “We need peace, David. You must remember that.”
“How can I not think about the fact that my father died ramming his flagship… and the tens of thousands other fathers, mothers, sons, and daughters that perished at that battle, Sheila?” David snapped, pain and frustration breaking through his carefully crafted mask. “I think we’re negotiating openly with a pack of liars who didn’t give us much of a chance for peace before they sent an armada to try to destroy our home world! I’m thinking of all the good men and women I’ve met who are dead because the League kept attacking us even when we didn’t do a damned thing to them! I think there can’t be any peace at all with the League, so long as they believe they and they alone have a right to decide how people should work, believe, and live!”
“David—”
David brought his hand up. “And above all else, Sheila, I’m thinking about how much I hate doing this job.” When she made no move to continue, he followed through. “I don’t mind being a soldier, though I always thought I would. I never liked being told what to do and when to do it, but I ended up being a pretty decent soldier. What I do mind is having to go out every day and killing other people, even ones as bad as the League. Killing our fellow man... that’s not something we should be able to do lightly, even if we think they deserve it. We have no right to take life as easily as we do. The press of a button, and thousands die? We talk about being many nations under God. One of the Ten Commandments: You shall not murder. Oh, we hide it. We justify it, but when one of our bombs goes off target and kills a hundred civilians, what does that make us? What have we become?”
He took a breath before he continued, “So yes, I think this is going to go nowhere. I think the League’s going to keep trying to grind us under until one or both of our nations are destroyed, but it doesn’t matter, because if we can have an end to this killing, even if just for a few decades, that will be well worth having to sit across the table from the man my father died fighting and eat a peaceful meal with him. Oh, I’ll even gladly toast his health, if only it brings an end to this war. And we’re going to be late if we don’t get moving.” He forced an uncomfortable grin and walked toward the door.
Sheila followed him, frowning while her mouth hung open.
I might have overdone it a little there. Okay, David. Time to get your head on straight.
27
In the cavernous flight deck of the Lion of Judah, the ship’s company had rolled out actual red carpet for the League delegation. The flags of the Terran Coalition and the League of Sol were displayed on poles off to the side. The Marine Band and the honor guard, also Marines, were in full-dress uniforms consisting of bright-red jackets, polished belts with gold buckles, smartly pressed white pants, and spit-shined black shoes.
Looking over them as he strode onto the flight deck in his own full-dress uniform, David chuckled. Leave it to the Marines to always be the best dressed.
He made his way over to the drum major and complimented her on the band’s appearance. “So are we entertaining the president of the Coalition or the admiral in charge of the League invasion of Canaan?”
Poirier came to attention along with the rest of the Marines. It was customary on a ship that the commanding officer, or any officer, for that matter, had honors rendered upon first meeting of the day by any given enlisted personnel. The Marines, though, seemed to love to salute at the drop of a hat.
“As you were,” David said to the band.
They all relaxed. The way Marines moved together like a human wave had always impressed David. He doubted he would have succeeded as a Marine.
“I’d much rather it be the president, sir, though he would have his own band,” she said with a smile.
“The President’s Own, right?”
“Yes, sir. It’s the most elite group of musicians in the Coalition Marine Corps. Someday, I’d love to play with them.”
“Never give up on a dream. Before you and the band disembark, I’ve got to hear how you decided to join the Marines to be in the band.”
Poirier laughed. “I get that a lot. It’s a fun one.”
“We’d better finish getting ready. I understand that the League likes to be punctual. Something about the trains running on time. Carry on, Master Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir.”
David strode over to the rest of his senior officers: Sheila, Hanson, Calvin, Amir, and Dr. Tural. Master Chief Tinetariro was present, as well, with a contingent of enlisted crewmen in dress uniforms.
“Ready to go, ladies and gentlemen?” he asked
Sheila spoke for the group. “Oh, yes, sir. We’re just longing to have dinner with a shuttle full of League officers. Anything for peace, right?”
An announcement filled the flight deck. “League shuttle arrival in thirty seconds.”
“Okay, everyone, look alive!” David’s voice carried across the deck.
The Marines braced to attention, as did the enlisted crewmen. David and the rest of the officers took their positions as the League shuttle glided into the bay and set down gently next to the red carpet. After a moment, its side door opened, and a small honor guard strode out and goose-stepped down the ramp. Admiral Seville led the way, followed by several officers in full-dress uniforms. A man in civilian attire came toward the end. David recognized him as the diplomatic minister, Jenner. As the last Leaguer exited the shuttle, Master Chief Tinetariro piped them aboard.
The gunnery sergeant in charge of the TCMC Honor Guard announced in a formal voice, “Arms, port.”
The Marines snapped their gleaming rifles to port arms.
“Attention, colors!” he bellowed.
At that, the band stood and began to play the anthem of the Terran Coalition. Every member of the TCMC and CDF stood at attention and saluted. Admiral Seville and his officers also brought themselves to attention but did not salute. Minister Jenner placed his hand over his heart in what David thought was a show of respect.
When the final bars ended, the band paused before they began to play the anthem of the League of Sol. Admiral Seville and the rest of the League contingent brought their hands up to their brows and smartly saluted their colors. David and everyone else silently stood at attention. Standing here, listening to this music, is tearing me up inside. I can’t begin to believe the Marines aren’t hating this even more than I am. He forc
ed himself to remember that it was a small indignity for peace, and well, the League had just rendered honors to the Coalition flag, so maybe it evened out. The League anthem ended, and the band sat down again.
Seville stepped forward. “Permission to come aboard, Colonel?”
“Permission granted, Admiral.”
“Allow me to introduce Diplomatic Minister Jenner, leader of our peace delegation, Colonel Strappi, the morale officer aboard the Destruction, and Fleet Captain Antonov, the commanding officer of my flagship.” Seville’s face betrayed little emotion.
“A pleasure, gentlemen,” David said and shook hands with the League officers and Minister Jenner. “Allow me to introduce my senior staff: Major Sheila Thompson, executive officer, Major Arthur Hanson, chief engineer, Lieutenant Colonel Calvin Demood, Marine expeditionary force commander, Lieutenant Colonel Hassan Amir, flight wing commander, and Dr. Izmet Tural, our chief medical officer.”
Seville politely shook the hands of the senior officers as David introduced them.
“If you will follow me, sir, we have a dinner prepared in your honor,” David said as a way of wrapping up the introductions.
“Thank you, Colonel. I would be delighted.”
As the League delegation walked away with David, Seville took the lead.
* * *
One of the nice things about a gigantic ship, David pondered, is that it has various rooms and venues a smaller destroyer simply doesn’t have.
On the Rabin, if they’d ever had a VIP aboard, which was unlikely, the wardroom would have been used for a dining hall. But on the Lion, they had a purpose-built dining room for guest VIPs. Following procedure, the Lion’s senior officers were in attendance, and Admiral Seville had brought his senior officers and staff. Not quite one for one, as the regs suggested, but it was close enough.
David had reluctantly allowed Dr. Hayworth to join the dinner after Major Merriweather had suggested repeatedly that Hayworth was highly thought of, even in the League. Maybe he would find some common ground with them. The last thing David wanted was the temperamental doctor causing problems in what needed to be a productive discussion.
David was seated at the head of table as the commanding officer, Seville was at the other end, while the various officers were intermingled with one another. The League’s senior diplomat, Minister Jenner, sat to David’s right.
Mess stewards brought in the first course of the meal as small talk was exchanged.
Jenner said to David, “Colonel, I must confess that we were shocked you were sent to escort us.”
David raised an eyebrow. “Why is that, Minister?”
Jenner offered a small smile. “Our intelligence service was not aware that the Victory Project was this close to completion. It took us by surprise.”
David returned the smile while the wheels turned in his head. Why would he let that slip? “Perhaps the League’s intelligence gathering within the Terran Coalition isn’t what it used to be,” he said, trying to inject some humor and wondering if what Jenner had really meant was they were astonished that David had been chosen to command the ship provided for escort, given the history between his father and Seville.
“Perhaps,” Jenner said with a chuckle. “Tell me, Colonel, how do you view our chances for peace?”
Sheila, who sat several chairs down on the left, overheard Jenner’s question and peered at David with a cautious expression.
“I’m not sure, Minister. I’m hopeful that we can come to an agreement. No one in their right mind wants to get up each morning and go kill people.”
Jenner nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Our propaganda says that all members of the Coalition Defense Force relish combat and long to die as martyrs for God.”
Sheila took the opportunity to interject, seeing David’s dark expression. “Well, Minister, I think that’s some bad intel. We put an overwhelming emphasis on not dying.”
Calvin spoke up. “We Marines have another way of putting it. It’s not our job to die for our country. Our job is to make the other guy die for his.”
Those who’d heard him, including Jenner and David, chuckled.
“Point taken, Colonel Demood,” Jenner said. “Our own Marines have a similar saying. I think that sentiment traces all the way back to Earth.”
“I believe the earliest known expression of it is from a senator from ancient Rome. Cicero, if memory serves,” David replied.
“You know Earth history, Colonel?” Jenner asked, seeming surprised.
David couldn’t help snickering. “Yes, Minister. It’s in our school studies, and I took several courses on Earth history during my time at the Space Warfare College. I can’t tell you how many books I’ve read on the subject. History is fascinating to me.”
Jenner turned to the captain of the Destruction, Zehnya Antonov, who was several chairs down. “It appears that much of our intelligence is wrong.”
Calvin, who sat to the left of David, said sotto voce to him, “No wonder we keep kicking these guys’ asses.”
David smirked, even though he detested cursing.
As the mess stewards finished setting down the first-course salads, he cleared his throat. “Ladies, gentlemen, honored guests,” he said in a voice that carried over the rest. “It is CDF custom that before a meal, we offer thanks and ask for blessing from our Creator. I realize that we have in attendance those who do not believe. You should feel no obligation to join us.” He glanced at Rabbi Kravitz. “Rabbi, please lead us in a blessing.”
Wardroom tradition dictated that the prayer was offered in the faith of the commanding officer, and since David was Jewish, he had invited the rabbi to the dinner.
Kravitz made eye contact with several around him before bowing his head. The rest of the CDF officers did the same. Jenner joined in out of respect. The League officers simply looked at each other while Dr. Hayworth made a display of rolling his eyes.
“Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the Universe, by Whose word all things came to be. Bless this food and our purpose here.”
As he finished, those who’d bowed their heads raised them once more.
David picked up his glass and took a sip of water. “Thank you, Rabbi.”
“If I may, Colonel...” Seville interjected. “I propose a toast for this fine occasion. The first time in almost four hundred years that our two sections of humanity have sat down together to discuss peace.”
Several heads turned toward David.
He offered a diplomatic smile and raised his glass. “To peace then, Admiral.”
“Indeed. To peace for all mankind, regardless of ideology.”
Seville ignored the stern look from Strappi as the assembled officers took a drink in unison.
“These years of war have been a terrible waste of life and treasure, you understand. The League can no more sustain this bloodshed than you can, I would imagine, and it is time to end the fighting. It is time for peace.”
“Peace,” David said, nodding. “I only hope it’s something that lasts, instead of the usual peace.”
“The usual peace, Colonel?” Jenner asked.
“A peace that is just to give everyone time to prepare for the next war.”
Silence broke out at the dinner table.
Sheila scowled at David, as if to say, “What?”
Seville, however, peered at David for a moment before he laughed. “Ah, wonderful wit, Colonel,” he proclaimed. “Such cynicism. It breeds so well in people of our occupation, doesn’t it? Having death as a constant companion, never knowing when it will claim a friend, a lover, or even oneself.”
“It’s an occupational hazard, Admiral,” David said, determined not to show any overt weakness.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed about, after all. All soldiers have to live with death hovering over their shoulders.” Seville took a drink then put his glass down. “Hopefully, we can soon exorcise that specter or at least reduce it.”
“It will be a proud moment for us all when peac
e is restored,” Sheila said. She exchanged glances with David before continuing. “A just peace that we can build on to something greater.”
“A reunion of all mankind under one banner is our ultimate goal,” Zehnya Antonov stated. “Humans together under a banner of brotherhood and solidarity.”
“Brotherhood and solidarity must ultimately mean tolerance toward each other’s differences,” Dr. Tural said. “Otherwise, what you have is not brotherhood. It’s the tyranny of the majority or whomever holds power.”
“Some things can be tolerated, and others cannot,” Strappi replied. “A united mankind cannot easily tolerate those who wish to divide it. Such is an oxymoron and can lead to that very division.”
David cleared his throat. “Our two… branches of humanity have very different ideas about the state, Colonel. We, the Terran Coalition, collectively believe that freedom is the cure to most things that ail us. The state should offer a framework for its citizens to thrive within but not control their lives.”
Seemingly undeterred, Strappi pressed on. “In the League, by defining the roles of our citizens and the rules they must follow, we give them freedom to thrive.”
“But who decides what can be tolerated and what cannot?” Dr. Tural asked. “Does any person have the wisdom to do such things?”
“Our people trust the State with such duty. The State, after all, represents the accumulated will and knowledge of the people.”
“And if the State is ever wrong?” David asked pointedly.
“The State is the embodiment of the people. It can’t be wrong,” Strappi insisted. “And it is preferable to allowing the superstitious to decide such issues. For instance, you, Dr. Hayworth.”
Hayworth looked up from his food.
“Even in the League, your brilliance is known, as is your refusal to hew to the nonsense of those around you. Unlike them, we would not treat you as a moral inferior to be badgered or pitied but as a man of rational thought and brilliant invention.”
Coalition Defense Force Boxed Set: First to Fight Page 41