by Daniel Gibbs
“So he did it at a good time! Look at the man’s history. First, his performance reviews are saying he’s not staying in the service, and next he’s a career officer? He wants to be the hero. He wants to be his father.” Barton’s voice dripped contempt. “He wants to go out in a blaze of glory, regardless of the cost. Why else would his first choice in this scenario be to ram another ship?”
“Ramming is not always a fatal maneuver, General Barton. Otherwise, we’d not be considering a court-martial right now,” Andrews said, her tone relaying her increasing frustration with Barton’s histrionics. “It does appear that Major Cohen’s maneuver, while unorthodox and exceptionally risky, was very justified by the results of the action.”
“I don’t believe this,” Barton said, his tone growing higher pitched; MacIntosh thought he realized that he’d lost the argument. “Am I the only one to see that this man has a death wish? At the very least, we need to take him out of a command position.”
“I can understand that,” one of the other generals said. “Maybe it’s best if we have him assigned to the officer academies? He does have solid front experience and could offer a lot to our command students.”
“At his age? He can do far better out on the front,” MacIntosh said. “And as soon as we get this matter out of the way, presuming a court-martial is not ordered, I intend to offer him a posting with my command as a CO.”
The rest of the generals on the review board looked at him with curiosity, but Barton exploded. “You can’t be serious!” he thundered. “You really do want to let this man cost us the war!”
“Given remarks you’ve made to us at times, General Barton, you’re not one to fling about defeatism accusations,” MacIntosh said levelly. “My command needs a young officer with a lot of ingenuity.”
“But he never went to command school,” the other general said. “He’s only commanded destroyers. His closest to command of a capital ship was an XO posting on a small carrier…”
“There are no better suitable commanders available as of now. I am certain of that.”
“This subject isn’t a part of our intended deliberation,” Andrews said testily. “The issue of General MacIntosh’s Victory Project is for him to decide with input from the general command staff and the defense ministry. Are there any further deliberations as to whether we recommend court-martial?”
“None, ma’am,” MacIntosh said, with slow nods from the rest of the board.
“Well then, it is time we come to our decision.”
As David, Gray, and the rest of his senior staff stood around, the door to the boardroom suddenly opened wide. A yeoman poked his head out. “Sirs, the board has asked for you to return.”
Gray nodded curtly at the young man. “Thank you, Corporal.” Gesturing to the door, he signaled for David to go in first. “That was a bit quicker than I’d expected,” he said. “Let’s go see what the decision is.”
Sheila gave David a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he stepped away.
He looked back at her and smiled. “It’ll be okay…whatever happens. God has some kind of plan; we’ve just got to stay on it.”
She smiled back as David and Gray both walked into the room.
David and Gray once again walked back to the defense table and took their respective seats. The corporal from before stepped forward. “All rise! This review board is now in session regarding the actions of Major David Cohen in the Battle of Sector 17A.”
David and Gray sharply stood at attention behind the table, waiting for the generals to walk in. After they all filed in and took their respective seats, General Andrews once again spoke for the assembled board. “You may be seated. This review panel is now in session.”
General Andrews waited for a moment, causing anticipation to build within David. “After deliberating the facts of the action on the 16th of August, the Special Review Board has determined that the facts do not warrant proceeding to court-martial. That is all. This panel is now in recess.”
David looked over to Gray and shook his hand warmly. “Major, thank you... thank you so much.”
“Just doing my job, Major. Now you get out there and keep doing yours.”
David smiled widely. “Will do.”
As the two men talked, the corporal that served as the yeoman for the board approached. “Sirs, General MacIntosh requests your presence in his office as soon as possible, Major Cohen.”
David nodded toward the young man and turned to Major Gray. “Please tell my crew I will be out to see them later. And thank you again, Major!” he said as he turned to leave with the corporal.
10
David walked through a seemingly endless labyrinth of hallways, cubicle farms, and workspaces in the administration section of the Canaan Space Dock. After a few aborted attempts at small talk, he gave up trying to have a deeper conversation with the corporal he followed. Clearly the young man had other things on his mind and David wasn’t going to force him to talk. Finally, after a fifteen-minute brisk walk, they arrived at a door with the name “General Andrew MacIntosh - Project Director (Victory)” on the side of the entryway. The corporal pressed the buzzer on the door, opening it in front of them. The corporal gestured for David to enter.
“Good day, sir, and good luck out there,” he said and walked away.
A woman seated behind a desk in the front vestibule to the general’s office stood. David noticed a nameplate on her desk that read “Major Melanie Roberts” and he figured she must be the general’s adjutant. “Ah, Major Cohen. General MacIntosh has been expecting you. Please, follow me.” He fell in behind her, sizing up her cheerful demeanor. He knew that these sorts of positions could be a real stepping stone in someone’s career, as serving as an aide to a politically connected flag officer could come in handy at the next review cycle.
As David stepped into the general’s office, he braced to attention in front of the desk. “Major David Cohen, reporting as ordered, sir.”
MacIntosh nodded in his direction. “At ease, Major Cohen. Thank you for showing him in, Major Roberts,” he said toward his aide. “Major, I hope the wait wasn’t too long while we deliberated?”
Roberts departed the room as MacIntosh thanked her.
“Not at all, sir. I’m just happy that I was cleared, and I hope I can rejoin the fight with the rest of my crew.”
MacIntosh gestured at a seat in front of the desk. “You may sit, Major. David Cohen, or do you prefer David ben-Levi Cohen?” MacIntosh asked, looking briefly at a small tablet in front of him.
“The first is fine, sir.” Okay, why am I here for a personal discussion with a four-star? They’d don’t acknowledge guys like me exist.
MacIntosh returned his gaze to the tablet device on his desk. “Your father was Levi Cohen, the commander of the Salamis. Old destroyer, even when he took it out the last time, fit mostly for a mix of inexperienced crew and officers with old reservists.” He leaned back in his chair. “I was at that battle as a staff officer under General Irvine. I saw your father’s dying ship plow into the League flagship at full burn. It was the damnedest thing. An active career officer, and I saw a retiring reservist commander save Canaan.”
“Yes, sir.” David said, his voice taut.
MacIntosh looked back up, his eyes boring into David’s skull. “You’re prepared to make that kind of sacrifice?”
David nodded his head, and for a moment thought back to his father returning his salute in the front yard the night he flew off, never to return, the night before his birthday. “Yes, sir, if I have to. But only if I have to. My duty extends to my crew, and to not waste their lives in pointless sacrifices.”
“Well, Major Cohen, I’m going to give you an opportunity that no officer has ever been offered. I’m going to do it because I think you’re the right man for the job, and it’s up to you to prove me right.”
David’s mind continued to race, thinking that he was about to offered a post on MacIntosh’s team. “What’s the post, sir?”
<
br /> MacIntosh grinned slightly. He walked over to the side of the room and raised a curtain, displaying an adjacent docking slip.
“This.”
David got up and walked over to the window, looking out in awe at the massive ship in the slip. It was an old British Royal Navy Dreadnaught—the H.M.S. Lion, only she didn’t appear to be an old ship any longer. There were hundreds of small craft and workers in space suits surrounding her hull, and the superstructure had been radically changed from the last picture he had seen of the Lion. There appeared to be new weapons emplacements, hangar bays, and an interesting structure amid ship that he had no idea what it did exactly. He turned toward MacIntosh, mouth agape, and eyes widened in shock. “I…I don’t understand, sir. Do you want me to serve on that ship?”
MacIntosh shook his head. “No, son…I want you to command her. The CSV Lion of Judah. Our latest and greatest technological achievement.”
David took a step back, shocked by the words that came out of MacIntosh’s mouth. Doubts ran through his head; after all, he had just managed to win a battle by the skin of his teeth and lost many members of his crew in the process. This ship had to have thousands of crewmen on it. I don’t think I can do this. Could I keep my crew safe? That thing has to have thousands of souls on it. He began to shake his head slowly. “Sir, with all respect, I… I don’t think that I have the command experience to run this ship.”
MacIntosh turned back around to stare at David. “Few men below flag rank do these days, Mister Cohen. It’s been too long since we started moving toward the lighter, carrier-centric fleet. Back then, we had advantages that we thought could let us win the war without bankrupting the Coalition. Instead, we just ended up buying time.” MacIntosh walked back toward his desk. “Our carriers destroy an invading task force and they send two to take its place. One of our units is slightly out of position and they jump in and invade a world on us that takes years and hundreds of thousands of lives to regain. Sometimes millions.”
“Freiderwelt.” Seeing MacIntosh’s look toward him, he added, “Lieutenant Goldberg was raised there. Lost her parents when she was sixteen.”
“I see.” MacIntosh gestured toward the window again. “Without ships like her back on the front, I don’t know if we’ll ever have the raw firepower to deal with the League.”
David raised an eyebrow. “An old capital line ship? She’s got to be at least twenty years out of date.”
MacIntosh offered David a small smile. “She’s not the same ship anymore, Major, not now with all that we’ve done to her. The largest magnetic cannons mounted on any ship in the fleet. The most up-to-date electronics systems, our longest-range engines, toughest armor, and strongest shield generators.”
David began to raise the objections he had heard throughout his career in regard to why the CDF used swarms of smaller ships as opposed to large battlewagons. “Twelve or so reactors that demand constant attention and even one going down leaves you stranded?” David asked, retreading a long-ago argument.
“Four reactors, actually, and unless the main one goes down, you’re still more than combat capable,” MacIntosh said with a hint of satisfaction.
David’s eyebrows raised, and his nose quirked in surprise.
“You don’t believe me.”
“Sir, I know of no fusion reactor that powerful...” David let the sentence trail off, seeing MacIntosh’s face. “General?”
“Who said anything about fusion?” MacIntosh tapped a stylus on a tablet on his desk, indicating it was their next item of business. The document displayed on the tablet, a non-disclosure agreement, was the kind necessary to get access to highly classified materials that were considered special compartmentalized information.
“Are you in, Major?” MacIntosh asked.
David’s mind raced with the possibilities; one half of his brain thought he could command this ship and do it well, but the other side of his brain wondered, But what if I screw up? He pushed the thought aside.
“If this goes through, can I have my senior crew?”
“As officers on the crew?”
“Not just as officers, but as my senior crew.”
Seeing MacIntosh’s negative reaction, David said, “Sir, First Lieutenant Goldberg’s record as a tactical action officer puts her high on the fleet bell curve. Captain Hansen transferred to field operations after serving as a military engineer on an advanced reactor design team, so if you’ve got some fancy new power source for the ship, he’s a good pick for someone who can operate it. And as for Captain Thompson, she does know how to keep a leash on me getting too inventive.”
For a moment, MacIntosh didn’t fully respond, clearly pondering David’s arguments.
David held his breath.
“Well, I’ll give their records a final once-over and see if they’re willing to sign on, but I’m not making promises as to their final assignments. To be frank, on the matter of Captain Thompson, even if promoted, she will not be your XO. She will be permitted to be a senior watch officer and navigation officer only. Take it or leave it at that, Major.”
After a slight hesitation, David nodded, reached forward, and picked up the stylus to sign his name to the form. When he finished signing, he put the stylus down to find MacIntosh’s hand extended. He took it and the men firmly shook hands.
“Welcome aboard, Major.” MacIntosh grinned slightly. “Although ‘Colonel’ may be more appropriate now, at least as soon as you are cleared and permitted to formally join the project. I should have an answer soon. When there is one, you’ll be getting a call, assuming that you will be staying planet-side?”
“I was going to visit my mother this evening. She is the only family I have left,” David answered. “The contact number for my private cell and for my mother’s home is in my personnel file.”
“Of course. I’ll be seeing you soon, Major. Dismissed.”
David braced to attention for a moment, then walked out of the room, his mind racing with excitement at what he had gotten himself into.
11
David sat aboard his helicar for the forty-five-minute flight to his mother’s home, while the autopilot flew him without input. He pulled out his specialized secure tablet, opening the file from General MacIntosh containing the Lion’s technical specifications, and read the ship’s high-level operating manual. It was clear that many hundreds of billions of credits had been spent on the technologies that went into the Lion’s defensive systems, offensive weaponry, and support systems. To begin with, the ship had a power plant that rivaled a smaller planet’s power grid; at full power, the anti-matter reactor system was capable of putting out more power than the fusion reactors of fifty destroyers. CDF engineers had clearly then scaled up the engines, shields, and weapons already in existence to match the power output supplied by this new reactor.
Interrupting David’s reading, the video communication program on his tablet flashed. He traced his finger over to the icon, and it showed that Lieutenant General Benson Pipes was calling him. General Pipes? I haven’t heard from him in a couple of years. They had kept in touch as much as the war would allow after David completed OCS. I’ve gotten some of the best advice I’ve ever received from him. I wonder what’s going on.
David pressed a button on the screen of his tablet, and General Pipes’ smiling face appeared on his tablet. “David, can you hear me?”
“Yes, sir,” David said with a wide smile.
“Go for secure.”
David entered his personal identification number and fingerprint into the tablet. “Secure mode engaged, sir.”
“I understand that you’ve been offered command of the CSV Lion of Judah.”
I thought that was classified. “Uh, yes, sir.”
General Pipes laughed. “Don’t worry, David. I’m cleared. General MacIntosh spent a good while discussing your abilities with me. I want you to know how proud I am of you, son. You’ve really taken off.”
There was something about the way General Pipes sai
d how proud he was of David that made him wonder what his father would have said. David knew he would’ve been proud.
“Thank you, sir. Much of that is thanks to your good counsel.”
“You’re a smart kid. You would’ve figured it out.”
David smiled. “But I didn’t have to make as many mistakes because of your advice.”
“Well, thank you for that, David. Seems like they’ve given you a big ship.”
“Beyond big; the biggest ship in the CDF. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s got ten three-barreled magnetic-cannon turrets, and since each one is five hundred millimeters in diameter, this thing can throw more projectiles than any ship in the fleet. The ship also has four particle cannons that are spinal-mounted, pointing dead center forward too. Testing suggests that those weapons can go in one side of a League capital ship, and out the other.”
“That’s a lot of firepower.”
“To say nothing of its secondary energy weapon armament, our standard neutron beams, only because of the reactor attached to this thing. They’re far stronger than anything you or I have previously used in combat. There are missile cells, massive amounts of point defense…”
“Highly augmented shields powered by the anti-matter reactor give it a higher protection rating than anything in the fleet. I reviewed the tests earlier today myself. What’s its downside, David? Remember that everything has a downside.”
“Typically, a military vessel tries to do one role really well. This ship tries to do all roles well. It’s got hangar space and launching ability for one hundred and eighty combat space craft, and it also holds a Marine Expeditionary Unit.”
“And in trying to do everything, it might do none of them to the degree we’d like to see,” General Pipes concluded.