Spencer leaned forward into the lectern. “Mr. Stevens, any time the League would like to surrender, we’re all ears.”
Most in the room laughed.
The reporter persisted. “What about a negotiated peace, Mr. President?”
“We’ve tried many times to reach a negotiated peace, Mr. Stevens. You know that. Everyone in the press corps knows that, and so does every citizen in the Terran Coalition. Those attempts have failed. Perhaps after we’ve kicked the League out of our space and with our new allies taking the war to the League, they’ll want to reconsider. At that point, we’ll address it. Next!”
A reporter at the back of the room stood to get the president’s attention, and Sherazi pointed at her. “Chief Minister, Mr. President, when will the Lion of Judah return to the front against the League?”
David shuddered. The thought of going back into combat with his mind unsettled was unappealing, to say the least. He barely heard President Spencer say that operational details of the war couldn’t be discussed.
The rest of the press conference went by at a snail’s pace for David, and when it was finally over, he and the rest of the military personnel stood as the president and the chief minister left the room first, followed by their security details.
After the reporters had left, David and the remaining senior staff from the Lion congregated. He had nothing left. I just want to go back to my bunk.
Ruth filled the silence. “It is far too early to end our day. Why don’t we go have a drink and toast the fallen?”
Before David could say no, Calvin interjected, “Best idea I’ve heard all day. You must have Marine blood, Lieutenant.”
“From a medical perspective, I think it would do us all good,” Tural said, drawing laughter from the group.
“Come on, sir,” Ruth said as she glanced at David. “You need to be around people right now. We all do.”
Okay, time to put on the happy command face. “You’ve convinced me. Where’re we going?”
“How about the Ready Room?” Hanson asked.
Ruth rolled her eyes. “Do you own stock in that bar or something, Major?”
“No, it’s just a good place and doesn’t rip off the military.”
“That works for me. Let’s go, people,” David said, ending the debate. This will be good for morale. Perhaps some camaraderie will help ease the burden on my heart and on the rest of us.
They walked out together.
* * *
The group took over a section of the Ready Room, breaking into smaller units around high-top tables to talk. Hanson, Ruth, and David gravitated together. They had been comrades in arms for the longest, and all knew Sheila well.
“There’s one thing I’m certain of,” Hanson said between sips of his beer.
“What’s that?” Ruth asked.
“Sheila would be happy we’re doing this.”
David glanced up from his drink. “I’ll agree with that.”
“Cheer up, sir,” Ruth said with concern.
“I’ll be okay. Someday,” David replied, trying to keep his face neutral.
Watching David and Ruth, Hanson was desperate to change the subject. “How about plastering a League dreadnought on our first time at bat?”
“Did you mix in a sports metaphor?” Ruth asked, feigning disbelief.
“Uh, yeah, Lieutenant.”
“It’s Ruth. We’re not on duty.”
“Right, Ruth.”
She rolled her eyes. “There’s a reason you don’t have a girlfriend, Hanson.”
“I’m just waiting for the right girl.”
“You’d take any girl that showed interest in you, at this point.”
“That’s not true!” Hanson sputtered for a second, then thinking of a retort, he pressed on. “Like you’re one to talk. When was the last time you went on a date?”
Ruth gave an evil smile. “The last guy I dated quit talking to me after I explained to him that my job was killing League soldiers in large numbers.”
“I’m really glad you’re on our side.”
David looked up from his drink. “You two should get a room or something.”
Hanson felt his face run hot as he looked from Ruth to David.
Ruth laughed. “Ooh, I think that one hit home.”
Calvin butted into the conversation. “What’s going on here? Our engineer looks like his reactor’s about to blow.”
Even David managed a smile as Ruth, Hanson, and Calvin laughed uproariously.
Standing up, David motioned the bartender over. “A round over here.”
“What can I get for you and your crew, Colonel?”
“A round of pineapple upside-down cake shots and a shot glass with pineapple juice in it.” Taking in the quizzical stares from the rest of the officers, David explained, “That was Sheila’s favorite shot, and Colonel Amir doesn’t drink alcohol.”
Calvin rolled his eyes. “Hey, Amir. What’s this about you not drinking alcohol? You want to start now? I’ll teach you.”
“Not drinking alcohol is a tenet of my faith.”
“Oh, whatever. There’re only a few things better than blasting Leaguers. Drinking shots after blasting Leaguers, for instance,” Calvin said. “And why are you ordering some girl’s drink for us, Colonel? Get a real shot. Barkeep! A round of four horsemen!”
The barkeeper looked from David to Calvin, not quite sure whom to answer to, before David interjected, “First Sheila’s shots then the four horsemen. And a shot glass with pineapple juice in it.”
The barkeeper nodded and came back a few minutes later holding a tray filled with shot glasses. David, Ruth, Hanson, Calvin, Tural, Tinetariro, Merriweather, Hammond, and Taylor all picked up a shot, while Amir got the glass with juice.
David raised his glass high. “Let us give thanks to God for the blessings we have received. Let us give thanks to our brothers- and sisters-in-arms, and let us remember the price that is paid for the freedoms we enjoy. Those who fell were part of us. We knew them. They were brave, and they paid the ultimate price without regard for themselves. We remember tonight that they fought and died not in vain but in honor. Let us never forget our fallen comrades. We knew them and will remember them, and they will never be forgotten.”
Forcing his lips together, David seemed to be laboring to avoid showing emotion. “To our fallen!” He brought the shot glass up to his mouth and downed the drink in one gulp.
The rest of them repeated in unison, “To our fallen!” before downing their drinks as well.
Feeling the liquor burn as it went down his throat, Hanson was glad he was with his brothers- and sisters-in-arms. He was going to miss Sheila, but that was war. Reflecting on how hard it was to make and keep friends, he felt sorry for David. Losing your best friend for almost twenty years had to be pure hell.
But in time, the pain would heal. It had for Hanson as he lost friends along the way. After the announcement of the Saurians joining them, he thought they were finally on the road to victory.
* * *
MacIntosh waited patiently in the office of Richard McNamara, the programming director for the Galactic News Network, which was one of the largest holonews outfits in the Terran Coalition. Since his days as a young officer, he and McNamara had remained friends for more than twenty-five years.
The door swished open, and Richard strode through and made his way over to Andrew to greet him warmly. “Andrew! So good to see you, old friend.”
MacIntosh stood and shook McNamara’s hand with a grin. “It’s been too long.”
As they took their respective seats, McNamara continued, “What brings you by my office in uniform?”
MacIntosh laughed. “All business?”
“Always.”
“I wanted to discuss GNN’s coverage of the Lion of Judah and the events of the last twenty-four hours.”
“I see. I’m the programming director, not our news and editorial director, Andrew.”
“I realize that, but I also
know you have a great deal of influence.”
“Are you here to complain about the perceived bias in our news coverage?”
MacIntosh snorted. “Perceived?”
“Okay, fine. As someone who voted for President Spencer—though don’t ever let that get out, or I’m done here—I concede that our news has a certain editorial viewpoint baked in, if you will.”
“That ambush interview with Colonel Cohen being an excellent example.”
“Oh please. He destroyed Leslie Sharp. I haven’t seen her beaten that badly on a live broadcast in years. Once he’s done blasting the League from our skies, you ought to get him to run for office. He’d be a natural.”
MacIntosh laughed. “Somehow, I don’t see David Cohen as a politician.”
“So, what’s the ask, Andrew?”
Brass tacks, it is. “We just had a major win. The people have to hear it. Morale’s been crap, and you know it. The story has to be told in an unvarnished, pro-CDF manner.”
“I don’t discount that destroying Seville’s flagship is a win, but there’s a lot of war left to fight.”
MacIntosh leaned forward. “The destruction of the Destruction…” He smirked at his bad pun. “Isn’t what we need to play up. It’s the joining of the Saurians to our cause. That’s the game changer.”
“We’ve gotten reports that perhaps the chief minister’s comments were more symbolic.”
MacIntosh shook his head violently. “They’ve already sent dozens of warships to join us, and something to the effect of eighty percent of their fleet is slated to be here in two weeks.”
McNamara raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of ships.” He sighed. “Look, I want to help you. But this is a huge ask.”
“You owe me,” MacIntosh said pointedly. “I’ve never called in that favor.”
McNamara let his head sag. “You know, I’ve wondered why, over the years, you’ve never called it in.”
“Because I’ve never had something worth using it on. This is it, Richard. We’re going to win, and we’ve got to have everyone on board.”
“You’ve got to give me something to take to the news division.”
“I figured you’d say that. I know how this game works. So how about this… I’ll give GNN and not Canaan News Network the embedded reporter slot on the Lion.”
“Seriously?”
“As long as it’s not Leslie Sharp. For God’s sake, at least get someone who acts fair and somewhat pro-military.”
Silence filled in the room for more than a couple of seconds before McNamara finally spoke. “I can sell this. But only if you’re absolutely sure it’s for real.”
“I’d stake my life on it.”
“Okay. I’m in. I’ll even give you veto power on the embed. Behind the scenes, of course.”
MacIntosh sat back, satisfied with completing the last portion of his plan to turn morale around. He’d called in every favor he had throughout the media, cultivated throughout a career that had started four years before the initial Battle of Canaan. It would all be worth it if the people of the Terran Coalition could believe in victory again. “You have a deal, Richard.” He extended his hand.
McNamara took it, and they shook.
40
David had decided to stay in his quarters rather than his on-planet apartment after leaving the pub that night. Media types would be waiting to try to get a picture of him, thanks to the enormous amount of publicity the Lion and her maiden voyage had generated. That, and he just wanted to be alone. He couldn’t shake the depression that washed over him every time he thought of Sheila’s death, even after the amazing declaration from the Saurian president. Any channel he turned on and every news post had her likeness and the story that she had saved them on a loop. And in doing so, she’d also saved the Terran Coalition from destruction. David didn’t like that his best friend’s memory was being used for war propaganda, but at least they told the truth.
He took his uniform sweater off, unbuttoned his collar, and sat down at the desk. When he turned on his tablet, he noticed he had a video message. He opened the app, and it asked him to verify his identity. As he pressed his finger on the screen, the application began to play the recording.
Sheila’s face appeared. “David,” she began. “If you’re receiving this message, well, I’m not here anymore. Oh, I know that’s melodramatic, but I had to leave you something.”
The timestamp on the message was from over six months ago, right before they had begun serving on the Rabin together.
“You see, you asked me something, and I couldn’t be fully honest with you. You asked me why I wanted to serve with you again. The truth is I missed you. I’ve missed you for so long. I remember the sadness in your eyes when I told you I was getting married to James. I had always thought you cared for me in a way that was more than friendship. I tried to encourage you to open up about it. Only later did I realize you had closed yourself off to meaningful relationships because of how hurt you were.”
Watching the video, David could barely process his emotions. He’d had feelings for Sheila that went beyond mere friendship. Having her call him on it brought it all to the forefront. It became crystal clear why her death had affected him so badly. He had hoped that one day, the war would be over, and he would be able to try to act on those feelings. But that hope was gone.
“I love you,” she said, beginning to cry a little. “You have always inspired the best in me and in those around you. You helped me get past James’s death. You also helped me believe that we could actually win one day. And I know that, right now, you’re torn up inside. You hide it. You bury it, but I know it’s there. You have to find a way to let it out, David. Your feelings will destroy you from the inside if you don’t. Keep fighting for what you believe in—for what I believed in. Don’t let the good that’s in you be destroyed by hatred. Don’t ever let it consume you. And someday, I hope we’ll see each other again on the other side. I can’t comprehend what that would be like… but I hope we do. So stop blaming yourself for my death. I know you will, but it’s not your fault. Let yourself find happiness, and for God’s sake, stop shutting yourself off from everyone around you. You can’t carry the burden of the universe on your shoulders.”
She paused. “Please try to talk to my mother. She’ll be mad, but talk to her. Make her understand that I joined and stayed in the military because I felt I had to stand up and be counted.”
Shelia shifted then continued. “I wish you and I could have grown old together. I wish we could have had a large family like you Orthodox Jews pump out,” she said with a sad laugh. “Remember me, but don’t dwell on the past. Wherever you are now, whatever you’re doing, the Terran Coalition needs you. Keep fighting. Stay true to what you believe and those ideals you insisted the rest of us follow. Some things are just worth fighting for… and sometimes they’re worth dying for.” Tears streamed down her face. “Goodbye, David. I’ll always love you.”
Stunned, David watched the video twice more before staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours and no time at all. As tears ran down his face, he thought over her words and actions on that final day—and he remembered. She’d wanted to stand down—to let Seville go, take the victory of thwarting the League plans and rescuing the Coalition POWs, and be done with it.
But I had to chase Seville down and try to destroy him and his ship. How much of that was strategy and how much hatred and revenge? If I’d listened to her, she’d be alive.
* * *
The following day, a grand ceremony was held to welcome home the prisoners of war rescued from the captured League freighter. In accordance with Coalition Defense Force POW code, POWs were to be repatriated only in order of capture. To avoid an unneeded riot, the League handlers had returned the first five thousand captured. Those selected had no idea it was a farce. They’d believed they were coming home.
Reflecting on that, Colonel Clint Waterman, the highest-ranking POW and de facto leader of the group, adjusted his uni
form while looking in a mirror. Such a simple thing. But I haven’t seen one in over twenty years.
The last forty-eight hours had been an extreme shock for all of them. First they’d thought they were going to die at the hands of the League guards, then they were saved at the last moment by the Marines. Now they were preparing to disembark from shuttles and be repatriated.
Clint had been able to speak with his wife and children for a few minutes the night before, letting them know he was alive. While they were excited to see him, he realized he must be a distant memory to them. He hoped that, in time, he and the rest of his comrades in arms could reintegrate into society. But many of them had wounds, both physical and mental, that would take years to heal… if they ever did.
After making his way to the front of the transport, he stood near the departure door and waited. None of the other CDF soldiers seemed to know what to say. Some attempted small talk, but that was hard to do with a man who had been imprisoned and tortured for twenty years.
Sensing their unease, Clint tried to make light of the situation by addressing the young corporal in charge of the ramp crew. “Waiting for them to give the okay to open up the ramp, Corporal?”
“Uh, yes, sir,” the young man said hesitantly.
“I remember those days. Nothing ever seemed to happen on time. I’m just glad to be home and getting some decent grub for a change. Leaguer food tastes about as drab as you’d think it would in a communist country. Bland and slimy.”
The corporal laughed. “I can’t imagine, sir, but I don’t even like eating MREs. I’m just happy to get three hots and a cot when I’m deployed.”
“I know what you mean, Corporal. I know what you mean.”
Finally, the door to the transport opened, and the ramp descended. That particular transport only had three hundred POWs on it. As thousands of family members had thronged the base, they’d had to manage how many people were on the flight line to avoid injuries. As the highest-ranking POW, Clint had the duty of walking down the ramp first. With difficulty because of old wounds, including having both of his legs broken during interrogation sessions, he slowly made his way down the ramp. As he reached the bottom, General Andrew MacIntosh, the Secretary of Defense, and President Spencer were there to greet him. Exchanging salutes with all three, he realized that not only was the flag of Terran Coalition flying high, on a nearby flagpole, but the crowds waved both CDF and Terran Coalition flags proudly while they cheered. Colonel Demood stood with another group of officers, and Clint assumed they were his crewmates from the Lion of Judah.
Coalition Defense Force Boxed Set: First to Fight Page 50