Fight the Good Fight

by Daniel Gibbs

  “Come!”

  Opening the hatch and walking in, David brought himself to attention in front of the major’s desk. “Corporal David Cohen reports as ordered, sir!”

  “Corporal, I was surprised that you asked to see me after our last conversation.”

  “Sir, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said the last time we spoke over the last few weeks.”

  The older man stared at him for a few moments. “Have a seat, Corporal.” After David sat down, the major continued, “You seemed to make your feelings known the last time we sat together in my office. What changed?”

  David looked Pipes straight in the eye. “Last week on the bridge, sir.”

  Furrowing his brow, Major Pipes nodded. “What about it?”

  “The navigator died in front of me, sir. Her only concern was the ship and getting it to safety. That made an impact on me. I know that I’m young and I have much to learn, but I also know to the very core of my being that the League of Sol is evil. I believe that evil must be opposed. I can’t run from that, and I can’t run from what I’m good at. You were right; I’m good at this in spite of my desire not to be.”

  “Are you sure, Corporal? I don’t want you to do it for a year and then get cold feet. If you’re going to make a commitment, you’ve got to stick with it,” Pipes said.

  David nodded. “I understand, sir. I’m all in on this.”

  Pipes was silent for a few moments, leaving an uneasy silence in the office.

  “It’s not an easy life, David. It’s not an easy life at all. There are days where you will regret it and wish you had chosen a different path. Especially on the days you go to bed alone in your bunk with no one at home waiting for you.”

  “Sir, I’ve spent a lot of time considering just that. I’m sure. Even though I don’t like to admit it, I get tunnel vision in combat. I act. I’m able to focus on the problem at hand and logically think it through, even with the chaos around me. It seems like that might be a useful trait to bring to combat.”

  “It’s possibly the most useful trait, to use your words, son. I knew you had it when I read the after-action report from the boarding.”

  “I’m sorry I rejected your offer the first time, sir.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about. This decision isn’t one to be made lightly.”

  “Why’d you do it, sir?” David asked.

  “I’d already joined the CDF prior to the Battle of Canaan. I thought it was going to be a place where I figured out what I wanted to do in life, gained some skills, and since I’d joined the reserve officers training cadre, they paid for my degree. Frankly, it seemed like a good deal at the time. After that dark day, I first wanted to get even. When that passed, I wanted to be sure that it never happened again. So here I am, twelve years later. Promoted to major and commanding a frigate. If you apply yourself, David, you can do the same. I think you could go far in the CDF, but most importantly, you’ve got something to offer. Don’t get a big head, always learn new things, and stay focused.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Above all, never stop trying to bring your crew home. Aside from defeating the enemy, that is your most important charge.”

  “Yes, sir,” David said again.

  “I’ll put in your application and sponsor it. Once I get word back, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “All right, Corporal, I’m sure you have duties to attend to. Dismissed.”

  David stood, braced to attention, and departed his office, mind racing as to what he’d gotten himself into now.

  6

  CSV Audacious

  Patrol Sector 62E—Terran Coalition / League of Sol Active Combat Zone

  5 February 2560 (Old Earth Calendar)

  Sixteen years later, David Cohen walked into his cabin on the CSV Audacious, a Thane class escort carrier. He paused to strip off his rank insignia—now that of a major—and ribbons before taking off his khaki uniform shirt. Two and a half years into my tour as the XO of this ship, and it seems like I’m just learning how to do the job well. He took a seat on the small couch that occupied most of the space in the small living room space, pulling up fleetlink to review his personal communications. Scanning quickly through the videos and text messages he’d received during the day, he noticed a note from his detailer; the person assigned to place him and other officers into positions they’d hopefully excel at.

  That’s the idea anyway. I’ve always found my postings to be a bit random. I’ve gotten some good assignments, though, XO on this carrier among the best so far. Thinking back to his first days on the carrier, David thought he was a good leader coming in to the role. Being forced to find creative solutions to problems he’d never encountered before, he’d learned how to work through issues in a manner that allowed the crew to thrive, and the ship to remain in tiptop shape. Pulling the note up, he had to read it twice for the full meaning to set in.

  David,

  How’s the Audacious treating you? Your recent FITREP was exceptional. It’s opened many doors for the next posting in your career. I’ve got a unique opening for you to consider. The CSV Yitzhak Rabin, one of those next-generation Ajax class destroyers, is in need of a CO. Her current CO is retiring after twenty years in service, and the previously selected CO is suddenly not available. So… your name is at the top of my list. What do you say? I realize it’s out of the blue, but I need an answer by 0800 CMT tomorrow morning.

  – Ronald

  David sat back on the couch, absorbing the request that lay before him. The circle is now complete. Once I take command of this ship, I’ll have effectively traveled the same path my father did. Does that make me my father? The idea that someday he’d command the same class of ship had occurred to him over the years, but to finally have it happen caused deep and latent feelings to roar to the surface. How far I’ve come from a ruddy-faced teenager, to this. Dad would be proud.

  Over the years, he’d been able to compartmentalize the emotional side of his mind and had seen counselors after each major engagement as mandated by CDF medical personnel. Always making a conscious effort to internalize most of his feelings, he didn’t want to show what he perceived to be weakness. It led to a calm and focused exterior, but when the night was quiet and he lay in bed to sleep, he couldn’t stop seeing the faces of the people he’d been forced to kill in the discharge of his duties, or those he couldn’t save. It was an ever-present reminder of the cost of war.

  He cross-referenced the name of the ship, the CSV Yitzhak Rabin. An Ajax class destroyer, she was one of the newest ships in the fleet. The Ajax class had been introduced three years ago to much fanfare; they packed the shield generators and weapons of a previous generation light cruiser and had performed exceptionally well against the League since their introduction. There were rumors around the CDF that the Matrinids, another friendly alien race in the local sector, had provided advanced shield technology, but David typically found RUMINT—the slang term for “rumor intelligence”— to be highly unreliable.

  As he began to compose his reply to his detailer, he paused for a moment, considering the awesome responsibility of a starship command. Even his posting as the XO of Audacious was not the same. On the Audacious, while he ran the various departments of the ship and kept it humming along, the CO made the final decisions. At the end of the day, it was the CO’s call, not his. For just a moment, one side of his brain thought, Do you really want to decide life and death for four hundred and fifty people? Can you handle that? While the other was sure and confident. I’ve got this. After seventeen years of preparation, I’m ready to lead. Lost in thought, David considered both thoughts. Ultimately, he believed he had a duty to fight the good fight, to use every talent he had to defeat the evil that was the League of Sol.

  David finished his reply, thanking the detailer and accepting the assignment. He’d known for a while he was on the command shortlist, but being offered command of a destroyer after one tour as an XO surpr
ised him. Then again, the war clearly wasn’t going that well. The joint chiefs were careful not to say it in public, and the military and government officials continued to play up the victories and downplay the defeats. But everyone on the front lines knew they were being dragged kicking and screaming to the gallows by the League’s overwhelming superiority in numbers. The CDF still had a lot of fight in it, and they won more engagements than they lost...but it was only a matter of time.

  David continued to hope that a new ally or new technology would help shift the tide of the war. The Terran Coalition had far superior shields, weapons, and propulsion technology, but it was only a generation or so better than the League’s. It needed to be three generations ahead to truly turn the tide, as superiority of that magnitude would render League ships virtually unable target, damage or destroy CDF vessels in meaningful numbers. There was talk throughout the military about the Victory Project, a top-secret program to create a new ship class. Command probably let that leak to keep up civilian morale, more than anything.

  Setting those thoughts aside, David hit send on his reply and then pulled up the crew roster for the Rabin. He immediately noticed that the XO’s position was unfilled. Well, well. I wonder. He knew Sheila had been deep-selected by the promotion board for command as well. Maybe she’d be interested in serving with me again. David viewed her as a “fire and forget” missile; whatever needed to be done, just give it to her, and she’d make sure it happened. It would be good to see her again for more than just a quick lunch or dinner when travel plans happened to overlap every couple of years. Pulling up his mail application, David started to compose the letter to her, a smile creeping onto his face as he did so.

  Sheila,

  I hope this note finds you well. It’s been a couple of weeks since I had time to write, but things have been so crazy. I was just offered command of an Ajax class destroyer, the CSV Yitzhak Rabin. Are you sitting down? I hope so. The XO slot is open, and I know you’re the second officer of a guided missile cruiser, but the XO on the Rabin was reassigned on an emergency basis just a couple of weeks ago. My detailer asked me if I could recommend someone, and you were the first and only person that came to mind. Would you like me to send him your way?

  – David

  Captain Sheila Thompson walked into her stateroom onboard the CSV Stromboli, a Lepanto class guided missile cruiser, after pulling a double shift on the bridge, covering the first and second watch. Both the CO and XO were down with a nasty case of the flu, and as the second watch officer, it was left to her to pick up the slack. Right now, she was just ready for a hot bath followed by a private dinner, and hopefully, a good night’s sleep before taking first shift again in the morning. As she ran the hot water for her bath, her tablet’s flashing alert light caught her attention.

  Unable to push the device to later, Sheila left the water running and went back to her desk to check for messages. Running her pointer finger over the biometrics screen, she unlocked her tablet. An email marked high importance from David caught her attention. Anxiety filled her as she clicked to open it. Part of her hated that he had the effect on her, but such had been the case for so long now, she was getting used to it. The two colleagues had always kept up with each other over the years, usually having dinner together every once in a great while when they were on ships laid up at the main Canaan drydocks at the same time. She paused briefly by her desk to read the email.

  Her emotions ran away with her as she read the message a second time just to be sure of what it said. Her tour on the Stromboli was nearly up, and she’d been passed over for command, at least for now, so a different XO assignment or shore duty seemed likely in her future. She wasn’t interested in a shore duty assignment, and if she were going to be an XO, it’d be much better to serve with someone she knew, respected, and cared for than deal with the unknown.

  Hitting the reply button, she composed a response to David.

  David,

  I am so happy for you! After all this time, you finally beat me to a ship command. Of course, it’s got to be named after a famous Israeli. I think CDFPER finds amusement in these assignments. I don’t have anything lined up for my next billet, so I’d love to serve with you again. My detailer’s name is Lieutenant Hasan Darzi. I attached his fleet link profile to this message. See you soon!

  – Sheila

  Once she hit send, she wrote another message to her detailer explaining the situation, and that he’d be contacted shortly about the XO position on the Rabin.

  What have I just gotten myself into? she wondered as she headed back for her long-awaited hot bath. Where would this lead? Would she and David both be up to the task? That was a question that only time would tell.

  David finished the last inspection of his full-dress uniform, pausing for just a moment to consider the ceremony he was about to participate in. My first ship command, he thought to himself, wishing for a moment that his father could be there to see him.

  As he walked out of the officers’ quarters he stayed in and made his way to the berth for the Yitzhak Rabin, David’s mind went back to the email containing his orders that he received from Coalition Defense Force Personnel—CDFPER—just a few weeks prior. “Proceed to the Canaan Station where the CSV Yitzhak Rabin is docked, and upon arrival, report to your immediate superior in command for duty as the commanding officer of CSV Yitzhak Rabin,” it instructed. A smile came across his lips as he read the orders for the first time and several times after, a sense of pride and excitement growing inside of him each time he re-read the email.

  Looking back at his nearly twenty-year career in the CDF, if someone had told back then that he would command a destroyer, he’d have laughed in their face. How interesting it was that he had become his father despite his vow for so long to be a man of peace and take a different path? So much had happened to change his way of thinking over the course of his career that, while he could think of several defining moments, he realized that where he stood now was the result of a journey and that perhaps the journey was the point.

  Sheila had taken over the position of executive officer the week prior and had gotten settled in to her new digs aboard the Yitzhak Rabin. He didn’t know any of the other officers onboard, nor had he served with any of them. Given the CDF’s massive size of nearly one hundred million men and women under arms, that wasn’t unusual, but he had hoped to be acquainted with at least a few of the senior officers prior to their deployment.

  The outgoing commanding officer, Major Amina Najem, met David at the gangway of the Rabin, standing in the airlock along with Sheila and a small honor guard. As David stepped onto the ship, the senior enlisted soldier trilled a bosun’s pipe and the assembled company braced to attention as David approached.

  David turned toward Major Najem. “Permission to come aboard, ma’am?”

  Najem smiled. “Granted, Major Cohen.”

  David glanced at the woman’s uniform. After sixteen years in the military, he could read a uniform in such a way that it was like reading a book on a person’s life, from the campaign ribbons, to the national flag if present, to medals or honors awarded. It was all there, like an autobiography that only those who served in the brother and sisterhood of war could understand. Major Najem had been in the service for twenty years, was from New Arabia, and a Muslim, according to her ribbons and the flags on her uniform.

  It was customary that the outgoing CO would take the incoming CO around the ship prior to change of command. “If it would be possible, Najem, I’d like to tour the ship prior to the change of command ceremony this afternoon,” he asked.

  Najem nodded a bit stiffly. “Of course, Major.” She turned to the honor guard. “Honor guard, at ease.” The enlisted personnel shifted to parade rest.

  For the next two hours, Najem escorted David through the Rabin, showing him the ship’s detailed status of completion and identifying any open issues as they walked. At only two years in space, the Rabin still practically has a new starship smell. There were no sig
ns of mechanical issues, and he observed that the enlisted personnel were well drilled, appearing to perform like a well-oiled machine. In David’s eyes, that was a mark toward a competent commanding officer.

  Near the end of the tour, he’d begun to relax with the major enough to venture a joke about the ship’s name. “I must say, Major, it’s interesting that the first commanding officer of a ship named after a former Israeli prime minister from Earth is a Shi’ite Muslim,” David said with mirth in his voice.

  Najem looked at him for a moment before smiling. “When I took command, I researched who Yitzhak Rabin was. I found it mildly ironic and a reminder of how far we’ve come that I would be the first to take command of a ship named for him.”

  “He gave his life for peace, and it wasn’t realized for another sixty years after he died. Today, I stand here, an Orthodox Jew, taking command of a ship named after him, from a Muslim.” David broke into a large grin. “That almost sounds like a joke about a Jew, a Christian, and a Muslim in the same boat.”

  Najem laughed softly. “I wasn’t sure what you would be like, Major,” she admitted earnestly. “You are larger than life to some in the service, and to others, you are a symbol to be hated.”

  David looked down at his feet for a moment before looking back at her. “I’m just a man trying to do my job. No hero or devil here.”

  “Ha, and modest too. Well, for what it’s worth, from me, I think you’ll make a fine commander for this ship. Take care of my crew, Major. I’ve tried to make this ship the best destroyer in the fleet. I expect you to keep it that way,” she said in a friendly but direct tone.