by Daniel Gibbs
A small grin eased its way onto Taylor’s face. “Well, at least if you rammed a frigate with this ship…it’d be like smearing a bug on a windshield.”
“That’s the spirit, Lieutenant.”
Just as David was about to take his leave, Taylor’s comm unit went off. “Rob, you won’t believe this!” a voice said that issued from it. Before Taylor could reach down and turn it off, the voice continued. “I just heard a rumor that the League wants to talk peace! They sent a message to our government!”
Both David’s and Taylor’s expressions changed in an instant to one of bewilderment and amazement. “Lieutenant, do we get Canaan News Network up here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Pull it up, please. Maybe this rumor is on the news.”
Justin Spencer, the President of the Terran Coalition, waited outside of the richly adorned conference table within the Canaan primary government center. Watching his ministers, leading generals, and advisors walk in and take their seats, he ran the events of the last several hours through his mind for the millionth time. Spencer had been elected eighteen months prior and was a member of the Liberal party.
The Liberals were known by different names on different planets in the coalition. On the British worlds, they were called the Conservatives or Tories; on the American planets, they were known as Republicans. Overall, the Liberals were the largest center-right party within the Terran Coalition.
Spencer had replaced the previous president, who was a member of the Liberal-Democrats, which was the largest center-left party. The Terran Coalition had numerous splinter parties, and neither of the mainstream parties could govern without a broad coalition. For many years after the start of the League/Coalition war, there had been broad consensus that produced unity governments. Over the last ten years, that consensus had collapsed. The Left favored limited military engagement with a focus on diplomatically ending the war while the Right favored increased military spending, a buildup of the fleet, and a policy of unconditional surrender by the League as the only acceptable end to the war. Spencer’s coalition was made up of numerous center-right political organizations, including Likud from New Israel, the United Arab League from New Arabia, and many others. Spencer himself had served in the military for ten years before getting out and going into politics. He strongly favored building up the Coalition Defense Force, and it was his leadership that provided a nearly unlimited stream of funds for the Victory Project. It didn’t hurt that Spencer had at one point served under the command of General MacIntosh.
As the last invited member of the meeting took a seat, Spencer strode into the room. Immediately, everyone stood as a sign of respect for the office of the president. “Ladies, gentlemen, please be seated.” Spencer was known for being a bit of a cowboy. He wasn’t afraid to say what he meant or to shoot from the hip. Taking his seat next to Secretary of Defense Dunleavy, he nodded to begin.
“Mr. President, generals. I have asked for this meeting to discuss a new development in the war.” Dunleavy paused for a moment. “Earlier this morning, we received this communiqué from the League.” He pressed a button on his tablet and the message appeared on the tablets of all in the room, as well as the holographic projector at the back of the conference room.
Spenser looked up from it after a moment, his eyes wide. “A peace proposal with a joint proposal to the Saurians? But they’ve been steadily pushing us back with this new ‘Spring Offensive,’ as they keep calling it.”
Barton leaned forward, a slight smile forming on his face. “I think this is the opening we’ve all been waiting for, gentlemen. Mr. President, I suggest we act on this proposal as soon as possible.”
MacIntosh’s face turned red as he listened to Barton’s comments. “General, Mr. President, we cannot afford to look weak in the face of this offer. We must listen to what they have to say, but we cannot just give them whatever they want.”
Dunleavy made eye contact with Spencer before he spoke. “Mr. President, I am torn on this issue. While victory has been the goal of the Coalition Defense Force for the last twenty-seven years, an honorable peace that preserves our territory and returns the border planets lost to us is acceptable to me. I cannot stress enough, however, that I view any peace offering from the League with some measure of skepticism. We must consider, in my opinion, this offer to be a ruse until proven otherwise.”
“That kind of mindset will continue this war until we’re finally defeated and enslaved. Mr. President, we must seize this opportunity and exploit it for all it’s worth, even if we don’t get everything we want out of peace,” Barton said, making his voice heard.
Spencer sat back in his chair. Of all the possible outcomes of the war, this wasn’t one he had considered. He knew the Saurian Empire had been pressing the League to start peace talks. Not that we ever thought they’d bear fruit. I figured the only reason the Saurians were trying to help us was to repay what they felt was a debt of honor. “I understand the arguments on both sides, and I believe we’ve got to entertain this request. According to the communiqué, they would like to send one warship and a cargo ship with POWs, including the former president’s daughter, to be turned over to us as a show of good faith, followed by being escorted to Canaan for these proposed peace talks. Any objections to that sequence of events?”
“Mr. President, I feel that we cannot allow a League warship within Canaan’s defense perimeter. Even if it’s not a ruse, they could gather intelligence on our static defenses and the home defense fleet,” Dunleavy said.
“As commander of the home defense fleet, I feel those risks are overstated, Mr. Secretary,” Barton interjected. “Allowing a single ship in is an acceptable risk for peace. I suggest we send the Ark Royal to escort the League’s flagship to Canaan.”
MacIntosh leaned forward in his seat and glanced toward Spencer, “Mr. President, while I agree that we must entertain this peace offer, I suggest a different approach. Instead of the Ark Royal, I propose we send the Lion of Judah. She’s almost ready for launch, and a powerful new battleship appearing in front of the League will put us in a position of strength for talks, and it might shake them up a bit and put them off balance.”
“The Lion of Judah? The ship hasn’t even had a shakedown run yet. It’s not fit for duty or combat, and its commanding officer is questionable in a diplomatic situation. In his last combat, he rammed an enemy ship, for God’s sake! On top of that, General, do you really want to reveal our new technology and weapons platform to the enemy?”
“If it’s so unproven and not fit for duty, what harm could there be in showing it to the enemy, General Barton? As far as I’m concerned, the Lion is the best option and will keep the League off balance. Keeping them off balance during a diplomatic situation furthers our goals.”
“I agree with General MacIntosh,” Spencer said. Barton’s opinion carried little weight with him as a political appointee from the previous administration. The man is a defeatist and I ought to have him replaced. “The Victory Project has caused a lot of rumors for a while now both at home and within the League. A dramatic unveiling will help boost the morale of our citizens and shake up the League intelligence network. Andrew, can the Lion of Judah be ready for duty in forty-eight hours?”
MacIntosh nodded firmly. “Yes, sir.”
Spencer stood. “Then you have your orders, General.” Looking at Dunleavy, he continued. “Charles, get Andrew anything he needs, anything at all. If there’s any red tape, bring it to me and I’ll remove it. Via executive order if I have to.”
The assembled company bristled with energy as they waited to be dismissed, but Spencer had one more request for them. “If you all would, please take a moment and pray for the success of this endeavor.” He bowed his head with the rest of those in the room. “Lord, we ask you to bless this peace offering. Please grant strength, wisdom, and courage to all of us, and especially the crew of the Lion of Judah and her commander. Amen.” He lifted his head and looked at the men and women in the ro
om. “Meeting is adjourned, ladies and gentlemen. Good luck, and Godspeed.”
17
Sheila was in the Lion’s main engineering space, looking up at the massive anti-matter reactor and its associated fuel and cooling systems. Not much of an engineer, she was still wowed by the scale of the technology in front of her. From her eye, the reactor assembly looked larger than the entire engineering space on the Rabin. Hundreds of engineers and technicians swarmed over every foot of the space, many wearing CDF uniforms, but a surprisingly large number wore civilian clothes. The voice of Dr. Hayworth boomed out from the center of a group of engineers. “You idiot!” he shouted. “You’re supposed to monitor the anti-matter mix and ensure it remains within the safe zone. Now get back to your stations and try again!”
She smirked a bit, listening to the man rant. David had warned her Hayworth was difficult, but she wanted to see for herself. As the group of engineers scattered, Sheila walked over to introduce herself. “Dr. Hayworth?”
Hayworth looked at her. “Yes? What can I do for you? Want an autograph?” he asked.
“No, Doctor. I’m Major Sheila Thompson, the Lion’s second officer.” She extended her hand towards him, intending to shake his.
Hayworth looked at her hand for several seconds like it was from a different planet. Another female voice spoke from behind him. “Doctor! Remember your manners!”
Merriweather emerged from behind an engineering console; appropriately chastened, Hayworth took Sheila’s hand and shook it.
“Pleasure to meet you, Major.”
Merriweather extended her own hand. “Major Elizabeth Merriweather, CDF Special Programs division.”
Sheila took her outstretched hand. “Major Sheila Thompson, second officer.” After a moment, Sheila continued. “This is truly an incredible feat of engineering. I must compliment you both.”
Hayworth ran his eyes over her uniform. Noting a lack of religious insignia, he asked, “Can I count you among the enlightened, Major?”
“The enlightened?”
“Those of us who worship nothing but science.”
“I’m afraid not, Doctor.”
“A pity. So hard to find another that thinks like I do.”
Sheila fought not to roll her eyes at Hayworth, but Merriweather moved to defuse the tension. “Major, were you an engineer at some point in your career?” she asked.
“No…but I know what an incredible feat of engineering looks like when I see it,” Sheila said with a smile.
“It would be nice if the military stopped pushing me to complete this ship ahead of schedule. They’d be less likely to get a ship that breaks down on its first jump.”
Sheila had a hard time digesting Hayworth’s demeanor; it was clear the man was simply a jerk. “We still have two weeks before early trials start. I’m sure that’s enough time, from the reports I read this morning.”
Merriweather and Hayworth stared at Sheila for a moment. “Haven’t you heard, young lady?” Hayworth asked in a smug tone.
Sheila shook her head. “Heard what?”
“CDF command wants this ship in space in forty-eight hours. Don’t you military types talk to each other?”
Sheila reached down and pulled up her personal communicator. Quickly skimming the messages, she found one from General MacIntosh to the command staff, calling for a staff meeting and asking for all departments to be ready to launch in two days. “I guess I missed that one. I had my communicator on silent this morning.”
Hayworth rolled his eyes openly. “I’ve got to get back to work to meet this insane deadline.” With that, he turned on his heel and stalked off.
Merriweather appear to try and smooth things over as best as she could. “I’m sorry, Major; the doctor is a bit temperamental. This project is his magnum opus to science, if you will. He’s put everything into it. Please excuse his behavior.”
Sheila smiled. I wonder why she’s making excuses for him. “Of course, Major. I’m sure he’s under a lot of stress. I’d better get to the bridge and check in with Colonel Cohen. Sounds like we’ve had a significant change in plans.” Her expression darkened. “I hope there hasn’t been a serious setback in the war. We don’t need that right now.”
“I know. I’ve been insulated from the war a lot by working for the special projects team, but I know we’ve been getting hammered in the past year.”
“Don’t worry, we’ve given it back just as much as we’ve taken,” Sheila replied with faux confidence. In truth, she was worried too. She didn’t know anyone in the service that wasn’t.
“Glad to hear. I’d better get back to work too, Major. Godspeed.”
“Same to you,” Sheila said, turning to walk away.
Kenneth Lowe, the assigned program manager from Strathclyde Shipboard Integrators for the shipboard systems installation contract for the Lion, looked over the message that just popped up on his tablet. He and his deputy, Joshua Carter, sat in a small office onboard the Lion of Judah that had been assigned to him by the program executive office. With over four hundred personnel, he had one of the largest teams of contractors on the ship. Kenneth had worked for SSI for nearly ten years, and at thirty-five years of age, he was the youngest senior program manager in the company. Assigned to the Lion out of spite for his insistence on following the Coalition Acquisition Regulations, Kenneth was something of an oddity. He came from a military family but didn’t like taking orders he couldn’t question, and had not renewed his enlistment after his initial draft period. That aside, he loved working for the military. Being a part of something larger than himself gave meaning and purpose to his life, and he took a great deal of pride in the idea that his work and the work of his team supported the men and women on the business end of the spear. As he quickly read over the message, his jaw dropped.
“Josh, I think we have a problem.”
“What now, sir?”
“The program executive office for CDF Special Projects just instructed us to complete our work in the next thirty-six hours and have the Lion ready for deployment.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Joshua said, causing Kenneth to raise an eyebrow. Joshua never cussed.
He passed the tablet to Joshua. “Have a look for yourself.”.
After scanning the message, Joshua looked back up. “There’s no way we can have this ship combat ready in less than two days. They must want it to meet the League peace delegation we heard about earlier.”
“You may be right…but we can’t let them get out there without a working ship. I think we could have her ready in four days, if we worked twenty-four hours a day and nothing went wrong.”
“But we don’t have four days, boss.”
“We do if we stay on the ship when it gets into space. It’s at least two days’ journey to our border, even with the upgraded Lawrence drives.”
“It’s not in our contract to be in the field, sir. Not only that, you know Casey won’t let us do it without extracting overtime and hazard pay from the CDF…” Joshua said, his voice trailing off at the end.
Kenneth rolled his eyes at the mention of Stephen Casey, the SSI Vice President he reported to. Among all the people in SSI he had to report to, Casey was one of the worst. Seemingly focused on squeezing as much profit out of the military as he could, he’d come to loathe the man. In fact, he spent most of his job creatively figuring out how to get around his directives.
“To hell with Casey. I’m not letting this ship roll out of here without its systems working. Without fully functional shields, weapons systems, and the tactical network that links it all together, this thing is a flying coffin,” Kenneth spat.
Joshua sat back. About ten years older than Kenneth, he was usually the voice of temperament, but this time, he was silent for a moment. “Are you willing to fall on your sword for that?” he asked.
Kenneth nodded firmly. “This mission might be the end of the war. If it costs me my career to ensure this ship’s ready to meet the challenge, that’s worth it to
me,” he said evenly.
“Then let’s get moving…and you don’t get to quit without me. They fire you, I’m right behind you,” Joshua said, grinning at the same time.
Kenneth laughed. “Have our leads pulse the entire team on who’s willing to stay aboard, and make sure they do not pressure anyone. This is strictly a volunteer assignment.”
At that moment, the door swung open and another man, Harold Billings, one of the leads on the Lion of Judah project, stuck his head in. Kenneth had nicknamed Harold “Master Chief” because he was older and had many youngsters on his team. “Hey, boss.”
Kenneth motioned him inside. “Good timing, Master Chief, come on in. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”
18
David sat at one end of the table in the main conference room onboard his new ship. Most of the senior command crew was present, including now Lt. Colonel Calvin Demood, Major Sheila Thompson, Major Arthur Hanson, First Lieutenants Ruth Goldberg and Shelly Hammond, the ship’s third watch officer and backup navigator, as well as First Lieutenant Robert Taylor. Furthermore, the promotions for Sheila and Hanson had been processed and awarded. Major Elizabeth Merriweather was also in attendance, as she was assigned to the Lion of Judah for the duration of her shakedown.
Dr. Hayworth was absent, as David had ordered that the civilian engineer not be present for military command briefings. In truth, he didn’t want the man around period, although he knew that he had no choice but to work with him.
General MacIntosh walked through the door at the far end of the room, followed by an older man also in a CDF uniform wearing a medical patch. The entire assembled staff stood and braced to attention. “As you were, ladies and gentlemen.” At MacIntosh’s command, they resumed their seats.