by Daniel Gibbs
Agent Grant was front and center in her mind. He was convinced his actions were ultimately for the greater good and justified whatever means required to achieve the end goals of defeating the League or defending the Terran Coalition. Seeing the corrosive nature of that belief on display had been an eye-opening experience.
“I trust you’ll make the right decisions, Banu,” Ibrahim replied. “I miss you so much.”
Tehrani smiled. “I miss you, too, husband. Hopefully we will get some leave soon.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “It would be nice to leave it all behind, if only for a few days.”
“Soon.” He didn’t sound convinced. “Our time is almost up,” Ibrahim said as he sighed. “One of these days, I’m going to figure out how to get the government to pay for more comm credits.”
She laughed. “When you do, figure out how to get more ships too.”
Ibrahim chuckled. “I’m only an economist, not a magician.” He touched his fingers to his lips then to the camera. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Tehrani replied.
The screen went black a moment later as the connection cut out. While she was forever grateful for the convenience of talking to her husband each week, at times, it was like being snapped out of the battlefield for a moment then being tossed right back in. The whiplash is something else. Setting aside the tablet, she picked up her copy of the Koran and began to read in the hopes it would calm her soul. May I find the strength to carry on, no matter the cost, as Allah wills it.
After completing his after-action report and debriefing the Greengold’s squadron commanders, Justin Spencer felt pride at a job well done. The Red Tails had performed at incredible levels against the converted pirate carrier, and the use of rocket pods had given them an extra advantage. That Adeoye had come up with the innovation was the tipping point with Whatley to get him assigned as the Winged Lightning CO. Still, the most pressing thought in Justin’s mind was talking to Michelle and Maggie. His comm credits had reset, leaving him to ditch the Alpha element card game early and make his way back to his cabin.
Personal tablet in hand, he sat on the small couch in the living area of his stateroom, counting down the minutes. When the time read 1900 CMT, Justin touched the vidlink call button and waited.
A moment later, Michelle appeared in the living room of their modest home. Her lips curled up into a huge grin, and her eyes grew wide. “Oh, baby, I have missed you.”
“I missed you too.” Justin touched the screen with two fingers. “Where’s Maggie?”
“Sleepover with a friend.” Michelle winked. “I thought it would give us some quiet time to talk. For all fifteen minutes we get a week. How are you? The news said the Greengold fought a group of pirates. I mean, pirates? Seriously? This is the twenty-fifth century.” She made a show of rolling her eyes.
Justin laughed loudly, the sound echoing off the walls. “Thank you. I needed that. I kept picturing the guys I was fighting in old-timey pirate clothing from a thousand years ago.”
She laughed, too, her eyes twinkling. “Do you routinely imagine your opponents in bad clothing, kind of like if one’s giving a speech, the common advice is to think of the audience naked?”
“I don’t think I’ve heard that one before,” Justin said with a snicker. “Nah, just these particular opponents. Enough of the war. How’re you… and our baby?”
“Both mother and child are doing well,” Michelle replied in an impression of a male doctor. She giggled. “Morning sickness isn’t as bad as with Margaret, though I have this odd craving for lemon yogurt.”
Justin stared. “Lemon yogurt?” He made a face. “That stuff is disgusting.”
“What can I say. It’s a shame I’m not craving something like steak.” She touched the screen. “I miss you so much.” Tears streamed down her face. “I keep up a good front, but this is hard, baby. I wish they’d give you some downtime.”
Another wave of guilt flowed through Justin. Hearing Michelle voice her love for him as he was off fighting a war, leaving her to handle everything on the home front, was almost too much. He closed his eyes. If I don’t tell her, it’s going to eat me alive. Worse, it’ll eat our relationship alive. She doesn’t deserve that. He opened them and stared into the camera. “Hon, I have something I have to tell you.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
Justin gulped. Okay, this is hard. He wished he were back in the cockpit, fighting Leaguers or pirates. Anything else would’ve been preferable. “I did something I’m not proud of. I, uh…” He bit his lip. “I almost kissed a woman under my command. I’m sorry. I didn’t, and I’ve never been alone with her again. I won’t be. I promise.” The words flooded out of his mouth.
“Wait a minute.” Michelle held up her hand. “You almost kissed another woman, but you didn’t? What happened? Who is she?”
“On the trip back from Sol, one night when I couldn’t sleep, I went down to the mess hall, and Feldstein was there too. We talked about the horrible losses the Greengold had taken and all our friends who’d died. One thing led to another, and…”
“I assume you were emotional for once,” she replied dryly.
“Yeah. Sometimes it comes out, you know?”
Michelle’s voice grew soft. “I know, baby. I can’t imagine what you go through out there. You didn’t—”
“No. As God is my witness, no.”
She stared at the screen for several seconds. “Then I forgive you.” Michelle smiled then tilted her head. “Wait. You just invoked God. Who am I talking to again?”
The words of Father Elliott advising Justin to talk to his wife came back into his mind. I suppose he’ll owe me an “I told you so.” “Yeah… that’s another change. I’ve been visiting the chaplain the last few weeks, and I’ve been to a few services.” He swallowed. “I, uh, well… I’ve accepted the idea that the universe isn’t purely random chance.”
“Does that mean you’ve accepted Christ as your savior?”
“No. It’s a bit of a stretch for me to get there yet. But I’ve prayed a couple of times, and…” Justin licked his lips. This is going to sound insane. “I feel like they were answered.”
Michelle stared at him. “Would you tell me what they were?”
The last thing I need to do is scare her to death with combat stories. “Let’s just say that a few times, the chips were down, and I was in a situation I shouldn’t have made it out of. But I did.”
“I would do anything to hold you right now.”
Justin could almost smell his wife’s hair as she spoke. I long to see her and Maggie again. He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I feel so guilty about what I almost did. It's been eating me up.”
“Listen to me,” Michelle said. She leaned forward toward the holocamera. “I love you, and more importantly, I trust you to always be honest with me. Will I ask you a few more questions about things for a while? Yes. Do I hold something that almost happened against you? No.”
“Father Elliott told me about the same thing,” Justin admitted sheepishly. “When I was wrestling with what to do.”
“Sounds like a smart guy,” Michelle replied dryly. “You should listen to him more often.”
The relief Justin felt was like a two-hundred-kilo weight being lifted off his back. He redoubled his pledge never to allow himself to ever to be in a similar situation. “How’s the baby?”
“He kicks me constantly, to the point it's hard to sleep.” Michelle again rolled her eyes. “Takes after his father in that regard.”
Justin laughed. “I’ll do everything in my power to be there for his birth.”
“Good. Because I need you here so that I can hold your hand and scream at you for doing this to me.” She giggled before turning serious. “Baby, I know it's going to be virtually impossible for you to take leave. I’ll never hold it against you either. All I ask is you promise me you’ll vidlink in as soon as possible.”
More guilt washed over him at the thought of missing the birt
h of his son. I should be there. Every father should be there for such a life-altering event. “I’ve already put in for compassionate leave, but Major Whatley told me I’d have a better chance of seeing pigs fly in the vacuum.”
“I figured that something like that would be the response you got.” Michelle tilted her head. “This war’s upended everything, baby. My biggest worries a year ago were where we’d take our next vacation and the schedule for paying off my student loans.” She bit her lip. “Now those things seem so trivial.”
“Most things I used to gripe about in life now seem like the stupidest crap in the universe. It’s certainly given me some perspective.”
“Me too.”
The buzzer indicating they had fifteen seconds left went off.
Justin grumbled. “Another week. Ugh.”
“I got the holoimaging of our son back.” She winked at him. “I’ll use our allotment to send it over tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” Justin grinned. “I’ll put it next to the picture of you and Maggie in my cockpit.”
“I love you, baby. Godspeed.”
Justin touched his fingers to his lips then to the camera. “I love you too. And uh, Godspeed.”
The screen went dark, leaving Justin in silence. What did Father Elliott say? That God wasn’t in guilt, nor did he condemn us. Justin could’ve sworn he heard the chaplain’s voice. God reproves us and convicts us to change our behavior. He doesn’t condemn us. Neither does my wife, apparently. His gaze moved to the small plaque given to him as a gift by Elliott. “Waste no more time arguing what a good man should be. Be one.”
With a smile, Justin stood up and went about his routine of preparing for sleep and the day to come. God willing, he would still be there in the morning, and it would be a better day.
Epilogue
Unity Station
Deep Space—between the Sagittarius and Orion Arms
14 September 2434
After another successful patrol in the LX Vasily Kanin, Admiral Chang Yuen looked forward to a few days of rest and relaxation on Unity Station to clear his mind. He’d toured two captured space elevators over Eire, inspecting the League troops aboard and defensive preparations for the inevitable counterattack by the Coalition Defense Force.
Yuen arrived a few minutes ahead of time for his scheduled meeting with Admiral Voronin, the commander of Unity Station. The hatch to the observation deck overlooking the massive ship depot and repair yard was guarded by two men in sharp black business suits. He recognized it as the latest style from Earth before he’d shipped out the year before.
One of the men scanned him with a handheld device. “You may enter.”
“Do you know who I am?” Yuen asked, his voice dripping ice.
“Admiral Chang Yuen, League of Sol Naval Directorate,” the man replied. “We are with the External Security Service directorate. Please, enter through the hatch. You are expected.”
Few things affected Yuen, and even fewer remotely scared him. The mention of ESS made his blood run cold. He could almost feel his face turn pale as he reached for the hatch and pushed it open. “Thank you,” Yuen mumbled.
In the expansive observation area, two men stood. Voronin was one. The other was unfamiliar. He had vaguely Slavic features and a dense though well-trimmed beard. Much like Yuen felt, Voronin appeared gaunt, his eyes narrowed, and his face was deathly pale.
“Ah, Admiral Yuen,” the newcomer said with a Russian accent. “I had hoped to meet you during my time here at Unity Station.”
Who is this new interloper? Yuen forced his lips into a neutral position and walked up beside the two men. “How can the navy help the External Security Services directorate?”
“I’d read you were a man of few words and much action,” the Russian replied. “I am Dmitry Borisov, and yes, I’m with ESS. As to your question, I think a better one is how we can help you.”
“Oh?” Yuen fumed inwardly. The only thing ESS does is screw up military operations and get my sailors killed.
Borisov stroked his beard. “You have trouble beating the individualists on the battlefield, yes?”
“Not when I get the forces I need to win,” Yuen replied with a thin smile. “As of late, that is becoming increasingly difficult.”
“And if the Terrans couldn’t make their vaunted ships? If their supplies of rare ores were cut off?”
Yuen considered his words carefully. “Then it would be easier to complete the victory.”
“I’ve believed for some time the way to defeat the Terran Coalition is from within. These individualists are decadent. They lack focus and can’t work together. This gimmick they’re using of paying other individualists to bring in supplies because the CDF can’t be everywhere at once… It presents unique challenges.”
“The solution is simple,” Voronin interjected softly, as if he was afraid to speak. “Declare unrestricted space warfare and shoot down any freighter entering or leaving Coalition space. The individualists will refuse to transport anything in because they won’t want to risk their businesses.”
Like I’ve been asking the Social and Public Safety Committee for permission to do for six months. “I agree, comrade.”
“With such limited thinking, I find it surprising we ever beat the Terrans.” Borisov sneered. “If you attack neutral shipping, it will inflame the neutrals, who will, in turn, join the Terran Coalition.”
“And?” Yuen asked through gritted teeth. This spy dares to lecture me? “There isn’t a single neutral world in the border zone capable of fielding enough military power to defeat a single cruiser-led battlegroup of the League Navy.”
“What if you accidentally destroy a Saurian freighter? Or a freighter of human design, crewed by Saurians? Or the Matrinids, for that matter?”
“We have five thousand ships in the home-defense fleet. They’re more than enough to sweep this entire individualist-controlled arm of the galaxy and grind them to dust.” As he said the words, Yuen knew the ships would never be sent, especially after the CDF’s attack on Sol. It still felt good to point out the obvious.
“The politicians won’t allow the steamroller,” Borisov replied. “Though you know that. Trying to bait me into a poorly timed comment. Perhaps you’re smarter than I first thought.”
They all eyed one another.
Voronin took a step back and held up his hands. “Comrades, we’re all trying to do the same thing: defeat the individualists and keep them from harming our glorious League.”
Borisov held out a tablet toward Yuen. “This is a list of the materials I require from your vessels.”
Plasma weapons… energy shields… explosives… hand-held weapons. What the hell is this? “We need this equipment. You want us to strip the plasma cannons off a cruiser?” Yuen nearly erupted. Only that the Russian was a fully-fledged ESS operative kept his fury in check.
“I don’t care what vessel you take them from,” Borisov replied icily. “Take them from Vasily Kanin, for all I care. Just have them delivered within forty-eight hours.”
“This is outrageous—”
“Or I will have you investigated for individualism.”
There it is again. The ultimate slur in the League of Sol, the worst crime another human could commit: individualism—putting the needs of yourself above those of society. For any League citizen, it meant an extended stay in a reeducation camp. For a high-ranking admiral, it would probably mean execution. Of course, that’s the threat to keep me in line and not asking questions. Yuen shifted his feet and attempted to avoid any show of fear. “You will have your supplies, Agent Borisov.”
“Commissar of the Sagittarius Arm Division,” Borisov snapped.
Yuen could hardly keep from bursting out laughing. This fool doesn’t understand that real power comes not from a title but from how those you command respect you. “Of course, Commissar.”
“That will be all.” Borisov turned to go then made eye contact with Yuen. “If ESS had been allowed to proceed with our
original plan, the Terran Coalition would’ve crumbled from within, and the military could’ve cleaned up the mess. A pity the Social and Public Safety Committee was swayed by the admiralty.”
As the hatch closed behind the spy, Yuen let out a breath. “How long was he here?”
“A few hours. I was on the receiving end of a rather unpleasant loyalty session,” Voronin replied.
Yuen shook his head. “We’ll have to be careful.” The thought of having to defend against an internal enemy while fighting the Terrans was unpleasant. Let the spymaster play his games while we defeat the CDF. “Get the items he wants. And ramp up production of point-defense emplacements. We need to reinforce the orbital assets at Eire. I’ll give our foe something. They had procedures to destroy anything military of value. We got nothing out of the various stations in orbit.”
“It will be done, Admiral.”
The morning would bring another day, and Chang Yuen would be ready. The Terran Coalition would fall. The tides of history demanded it.
Battlegroup Z: Book 4 – Iron Hand: As shadowy forces inflict pain on the neutral worlds, Justin Spencer and the CSV Zvika Greengold are the last line of defense. Will they be able to engineer one more miracle? Get Book 5 today!
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