by Daniel Gibbs
Kind of like not being there for your loved ones sticks with you your entire life. “Yes, sir, I am.”
“Very well. I’ll approve your request. Once the fleet is positioned, I’ll excuse you to join Colonel Demood’s assault. Be careful out there… this one won’t be easy.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll do my best,” Taylor said.
“Carry on, Lieutenant. Godspeed.”
Taylor stood and brought himself to attention. “Thank you, sir. Godspeed to you too, sir.” He then performed an about-face and exited David’s office. Walking back to the bridge to begin his shift, he was not at peace.
23
Justin Spencer had just sat down to eat dinner with his wife and children in what was called the private residence portion of the president’s house. The house was divided into three wings: one held the machinery of the executive branch; the dozens of advisors and staffers that ran the behind-the-scenes actions. Another was for public viewing and had daily tours open to the masses. It had always been a staple of the Terran Coalition that the seat of government was to be transparent and easily accessible to all citizens. The last was the private residence, a place where the president and his family could find solace without the pressing rigor of politics and running the government.
His steward stuck his head in the door to the family’s dining room. “Mr. President, I’m sorry, sir, but you're needed in the Oval.”
“Emergency?” Spencer asked, pained that he couldn’t share some time with his family.
“Yes, sir. They need you right away.”
Spencer stood with a look of apology toward his family. “I’m sorry. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“It’s okay, dear. I’ll have a plate saved for you,” his wife said.
With a knowing nod, he walked out of the dining room and made his way to the Oval Office, security detail in tow. Pausing outside the door to retrieve a suit jacket from a coat rack directly adjacent to it, he put the coat on before entering. Spencer was well known for not allowing anyone to enter who wasn’t dressed in business attire. The least we can do is honor those who came before by treating it with respect in all things, including how we dress.
As he walked through the door, his assembled staff, which included the secretary of defense, and General MacIntosh, stood in respect.
“Please be seated, ladies and gentlemen. What’s going on?” Spencer asked.
His chief of staff spoke up. “Sir, I think it would be better to see this in real time.” The man fumbled with a remote, and a holoprojector came to life, presenting an image that Spencer quickly realized was onboard of a CDF military vessel.
“This is Angela Dinman, reporting live for GNN onboard the CSV Lion of Judah. We’re broadcasting without the permission of the CDF. For the last several days, the military has prevented us from presenting a true account of what happened during the battle at Unity Station. The League has developed a new weapon, which the best minds in the CDF have no answer for. This weapon is a stealth mine that in military terminology allows for area denial. The joint CDF and Saurian Navy fleet took twenty percent losses in the first engagement. Over half of our fighters and bombers were wiped out. Most of the remaining ships sustained heavy damage, and we’re hiding out for fear of the League discovering our location. We believe the people of the Terran Coalition have a right to know what’s going on out here.”
As she spoke, there were muffled shouts in the background.
“It appears we’ve been found. I knew we wouldn’t get long. To whoever is watching this, make sure the truth comes out and hold the CDF to account. That’s what we try to do here.”
An explosion somewhere in the background caused sparks and debris to rain into the picture, followed by shouting and weapons fire. The feed abruptly cut out after an energy weapons discharge hit Angie in the chest.
“What in the name of God was that?” MacIntosh blurted out. “Since when does GNN put out fake news?”
Spencer went weak at the knees at the thought of what the broadcast could do to the morale of the civilian population. “I don’t know, Andrew. I’m at a loss for words.”
Secretary Dunleavy spoke up. “Sir, I think this was on purpose.”
The entire room turned to stare at him. “I don’t follow,” Spencer replied.
“We know from intelligence received previously today there’s evidence the League’s leaders want to split up the fleet at Unity Station and go looking for our forces. What better way to draw them out than a news report, from a supposedly unbiased source that says we’re on the ropes and defenseless?”
MacIntosh nodded. “It tracks, Mr. Secretary. I know General Cohen through and through. There’s no way some reporter would be able to pull this off under the nose of his security staff, and Colonel Demood’s Marines. It still presents a problem to the civilians, though. We can’t deny it. If we do, we tip off the League.”
“We also can’t confirm it,” Spencer commented. “I’m not lying to the citizens of our nation, and besides, it’s against a dozen Terran Coalition statutes for a public servant to knowingly lie to the press or attempt to spread false information.”
“Which is why General Cohen wouldn’t ask you for permission, sir,” MacIntosh interjected. “He knows you can’t approve it.”
“Which means he’s breaking the law, then,” Spencer said, not liking any of the options on the table. “But I’ll concede in light of the circumstances his actions may be justified.”
“We give General Cohen a long leash, specifically because his methods are unorthodox, Mr. President. I’ve learned to not bet against him.”
“How can we be sure that this is his plan?” Spencer asked the room.
“We’ll find out for sure when we have our next communication window with the Lion of Judah. They’re to present a final plan to attack Unity Station,” Dunleavy replied.
“What if this was just a rogue reporter, trying to harm the war effort? Or worse… a League plant?” Spencer’s chief of staff asked.
“We vetted Ms. Dinman through the same procedure we do for individuals with high-level security clearance. She’s no League agent,” MacIntosh said.
“You mean, we don’t have evidence she is. I’ve been in this game long enough to know that we’re never sure someone’s a spy until they do something.”
“Occam’s razor. It’s far more likely General Cohen has a trick up his sleeve than wild ideas about spies,” Dunleavy interjected.
“Fine. What about the fallout from this? Mr. President, we have to get in front of it, right now,” Spencer’s chief of staff said insistently.
“Would I be correct in assuming that there’s already the normal press corps gaggle in the briefing room?” Spencer asked.
“Yes, sir. The entire pool is present, shouting questions at the deputy press secretary.”
“Alright. I’ll go down there myself and talk to them. Without lying.”
“You’ll be walking a very fine line, Mr. President,” Dunleavy said, his brow furrowed.
“I know, but it’s the only thing we can do. Ladies and gentlemen, you’re all welcome to join me.”
Spencer gestured toward the door and walked out, the gaggle of advisors, military officers, and his security detail in tow.
MacIntosh made his way up to Spencer’s side and whispered sotto voce as they walked, “Mr. President, I’d be happy to give the briefing for you. If there’s any blowback, I could take the blame.”
Spencer glanced at MacIntosh with a raised eyebrow. “Since when did I ever give you the impression that I was someone who passed the buck?”
“Never, sir.”
“I’m not starting now,” Spencer responded as they quickly walked through the corridors, passing offices and causing staff members to step to the sides to allow the group through.
“I’m just an old military officer, sir. You’re our leader. I’m less important.”
“You sell yourself short, Andrew. You’re the architect of our current
success. Besides, I’ve got a plan. Let’s see how it works before we go into full damage control mode.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. President.”
The two men rounded the corner that led into the briefing room, filled with holocameras and projectors, the assembled reporters taking note that the president had arrived. They jumped to their feet, screaming questions.
Spencer took the podium and held up his hands. “Please, I have a statement,” he began, waiting for the tumult to die down. “A few minutes ago, a recording was released to the public. I can confirm our initial assault on the League space station was a failure. Many brave soldiers of the Coalition Defense Force and the Royal Saurian Navy lost their lives. The League has deployed a new weapon against us, a type of stealth mine our sensors can’t see. Even with that new weapon, our fleet was able to escape the trap and inflict significant causalities on the enemy.”
Spencer scanned the room, seeing looks of concern, worry, and fear. “The strength of our nation has never been our technology or the training our soldiers receive or the number of ships we have. Our true power is that we stand together, united. United, regardless of our beliefs, political affiliations, faith, or lack thereof. Today I ask every citizen in the Terran Coalition to pray for the safety of our service members in harm’s way, that they may speedily repair the ships which are damaged and rejoin the fight. Due to this being an ongoing military operation, I can’t comment further. All I can say is we will fight on, no matter what the cost or how hard the road. I know the citizens watching me right now are scared and worried. I doubt there’s anyone in this building who doesn’t share that fear. But we also believe our nation is blessed, because of our trust and dedication to Almighty God. Those were our founding principles, and so they will remain, regardless of any attempts to force us to accept the rule of the League. Thank you all, and may God continue to protect, guide, and bless the Terran Coalition!”
Spencer abruptly turned and walked away from the podium, all while the gathered reporters shouted questions at the top of their lungs. MacIntosh fell in beside him as before, as they rounded the corner away from the briefing room.
“Nice job, sir,” MacIntosh said with a smile.
“Say that once we’re sure it worked,” Spencer replied. Dear God, please let it work. If General Cohen has a plan he’s working, let what I did help him. Deliver us from this scourge. It was going to be a long night.
The last few hours had been a challenge for Admiral Pierre Seville. He paced around his gigantic stateroom; no more than a gilded cage. “What’s taking them so long?” Seville fumed.
Colonel Strappi perched on a chair in the corner of what amounted to the living room. “I’m sure it’s taking time to bring the Social and Public Safety Committee together, Admiral.”
Seville realized in his own bizarre and unique way, Strappi was trying to be there for him through this maddening exercise. “They probably had to dispatch a medical team to resuscitate a member or two from whatever brothel they were in.”
Strappi’s mouth curled up in an involuntary smile before he forced it down. “Admiral, I believe they’re ready for us,” he said, pointing to the light blinking on the holographic conference system. At Seville’s nod, he engaged the device, and a virtual presentation of the committee’s meeting chamber superimposed itself on the room.
Seville glanced around, taking note of those in attendance. A few aren’t in their usual seats. I wonder what that portends?
“Admiral, we’ve examined your plan,” Chairman Pallis said.
That was quick, Seville thought. “Thank you, Chairman. I am glad you see the wisdom of my strategy.”
“No, Admiral,” Pallis replied. “After deliberation, we’ve determined your tactical plans are timid.”
Seville almost went berserk, right then and there. Forcing himself not to lose control over his tongue, he stared directly at Pallis. “Chairman, I don’t understand…”
Pallis interrupted him. “You propose keeping all of the ships we have sent you as a defensive force at Unity Station. They’re not your personal bodyguard, Admiral.”
“Of course not, sir. It’s simply prudent to concentrate our forces for the next attack.”
“An attack we don’t believe will occur. The Terran Coalition’s rather efficient news organizations have published a report that the fleet is broken and unable to launch any further offensives.”
“I saw the report, Chairman Pallis. Believe me, when I say to you it's not credible. We’ve been over the sensor logs. Most of the ships that escaped are more than combat capable.”
“It was from an organization that has never failed to bring harsh facts to light. They’re unimpeachable as a source.”
“Nevertheless, I tell you, our information proves otherwise.”
“Admiral, you’re beginning to trouble me. Other members of the Social and Public Safety Committee and I are openly wondering why you will not be aggressive after inflicting a harsh blow on the Terrans. Have you lost the taste for combat?”
Seville kept his mouth in a tight line, knowing that he was risking execution if he said what he wanted to say. The League is run by idiots who have no business interfering with the Navy and its prosecution of the war. If they’d listened to me twenty-eight years ago, none of this would be happening. We would have destroyed the Terran Coalition in one fell swoop. But no… these idiots always show up and screw up my plans, then take credit for the successes I manage to cobble together!
“Chairman, I will never lose my taste for defeating the Terran Coalition and its allies, paving the way to reunite humanity under the banner of the League. Still, I counsel caution. We have no idea what the Terrans are planning. They’re a dangerous adversary.”
“I want seventy-five percent of your fleet out looking for the enemy within the hour,” Pallis stated, his voice brooking a no-nonsense attitude.
“The maximum we can afford to send is a third of the fleet, sir,” Seville replied, his objective now to stem the tide of the damage.
“Fine, fifty percent. Within the hour, Admiral, or I’ll have Colonel Strappi issue the orders. To persist further would invite questions as to your individualism.”
“I’ll see to it myself, Chairman,” Seville said as he touched his fist to his chest. Yes, it’s individualism to want to save our sailors and space station, idiots.
“Good, Admiral. Destroy the enemy and chase them back to Canaan!”
The holoprojector blinked off without giving Seville a chance to reply. Unlike the rage he had felt the last time they’d engaged in this charade, now he was just drained and beaten. He sat down on the couch and looked up at the ceiling. “These damn old sniveling men will lose it all for us, Strappi.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Order the fleet out, of course. What else can we do?”
“What if you're right?”
“Then we do the best we can. This mindless belief that the embodiment of the state knows all lost us the first Battle of Canaan,” Seville replied. “Without it, we wouldn’t even be here.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to examine a different solution?”
“If you’re suggesting I ignore my orders… I wouldn’t have expected that to come so directly from you, Colonel.”
“Only a fool cannot see the wisdom of your position, Admiral.”
The colonel is full of surprises today. “I appreciate your loyalty, Strappi. But not today. Today, we do as we’re told. You heard them… to suggest I am tainted by individualism is among the worst things which can be said. Pallis isn’t playing. Ultimately, we may yet turn this to our advantage. Make sure we send our oldest and weakest ships out. If we can hold the Canaan Alliance fleet here when it attacks, the rest of our forces can hit them from the rear.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Carry on, Colonel. I’ll see you in the control room.”
Strappi stood and brought himself to unusually proper attention, slamming his fist into his ch
est. “Yes, Admiral!”
24
David was about to call it a watch and head down to the wardroom for a very late lunch. He’d spent the time since the staging Angie’s “special report” on the bridge, if for no other reason than to avoid her. He felt guilty for hanging her out to dry in that manner, and it was likely that there’d be hell to pay for her later, at least professionally. Now, though, there was a war to fight. The atmosphere in the bridge was taut and the bridge crew, all the way from him on down the enlisted technicians, were wound up.
For what seemed like the fiftieth time in the last five minutes, David checked his wristcomm; the minute hadn’t changed yet. “Conn, communications!” Taylor called out, interrupting his thoughts. “I’ve got incoming flash traffic from CSV Oxford, sir. It’s Colonel Sinclair.”
“Put him on my viewer, Lieutenant,” David replied, his brain snapping back to fully alert.
A few moments later, Sinclair appeared on the monitor above the CO’s chair. “General, can you hear me?”
“Yes, I can, Colonel. Go ahead.”
“I’ve got some good news for you. Looks like the League took the bait. The number of ships around Unity Station has dropped by half. We’ve been monitoring their Lawrence drive jump-outs for the last thirty minutes. Also, they’re jumping some long distances. Those holes took a lot of energy to open.”
“So they won’t be able to jump back in short order,” Aibek interjected from his seat next to David.
“Exactly,” David finished.
“My thoughts exactly, General. It would appear our gambit paid off,” Sinclair said.
“You’ve got stealth drones on target still?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good, apprise me of any changes in the League fleet status. We’re going to get rolling over here.”
“Understood, General. Godspeed and good luck.”