by Daniel Gibbs
David had on occasion turned down three Purple Hearts, an award that carried over to the CDF from the American military that was awarded for being wounded in combat. I don’t deserve medals for minor wounds that barely slowed me down. The men and women who lost limbs, suffered irreparable brain damage, and were maimed for life… they’re the ones that deserve it. Not a fleet officer in full control of his body.
He fastened the block of campaign ribbons to his right, his medals to his left, followed by his Space Warfare Officer insignia, and Command-In-Space insignia. David considered the medals and reflected on his mixed feelings. On one hand, he was proud of his efforts for the cause, a cause he believed in with every fiber of his being. What wasn’t lost on him, though, was that he was in effect rewarded for killing his fellow man. That fact caused him great guilt and it tore at him every time he let it catch up with him in his thoughts.
David knew that fighting the League and killing those who fought for it was required, but he also knew that most of its soldiers were conscripts, brainwashed into fighting, and that those who wouldn’t fight were shot. That didn’t stop him from looking down at his hands and seeing blood when he reflected on his past deployments. Pushing those thoughts out of his head, he tried to focus on the task before him tonight, ensuring as much as he could that the killing stopped.
The chime to his door sounded. “Open,” he said nearly automatically, knowing that Sheila was on her way to walk with him to the hangar deck.
Sheila strode into David’s cabin, put together and ready to go. “It’s almost time…done preening yet?” Sheila asked in a playful tone.
“You know I hate dressing up.” Sometimes I wonder at how she teases me. It’s almost like she—likes—me.
Sheila laughed. “I’d enjoy it more if these uniforms were remotely flattering.”
David couldn’t stopped himself from snickering, which got him a withering look. “How are preparations going?”
“The mess stewards are preparing the meals using VIP fresh food for once; the honor guard and band are in place. I have to tell you, no one is interested in hearing the League anthem played,” Sheila said with a bit of a smirk.
“I actually prefer the basic frozen meals.” David finished fastening his final medal. “Getting invited to the chief’s mess is even better,” he said, reminded that the chiefs ate the best on any ship.
He turned to face her. “Are you okay, Sheila?” The use of her name indicated openly between them that this was a moment between friends, not commander and subordinate.
“I’m just worried, David,” she said. “I know you’re hoping this turns out for the best, but now they’ve got the man who killed your father here.”
“I know, but I’m not upset about it. He was the guy in charge, sure, but not the man who ordered the attack,” David replied, but inside, he knew that wasn’t entirely true. As much as he tried to suppress it, he couldn’t push out of his mind that Seville was the evil that caused twenty-seven years of war. He ought to pay for what he’s done.
“David…I know you better than that. I know that you’re bitter about it, but you can’t let that get to you,” Sheila said, putting her hand on his arm. “We need peace, David. You must remember that.”
“How can I not think about the fact that my father died ramming his flagship…and the tens of thousands other fathers, mothers, sons, and daughters that perished at that battle, Sheila,” David snapped, pain and frustration breaking through his carefully crafted mask. “I think we’re negotiating openly with a pack of liars who didn’t give us much of a chance for peace before they sent an armada to try and destroy our home world! I’m thinking of all the good men and women I’ve met in my life who are dead and gone because the League kept attacking us even when we don’t do a damned thing to them! I’m thinking that there can’t be any peace at all with the League, so long as they believe they and they alone have a right to decide how people should work, believe, and live!”
“David…” Sheila said with a look of grave concern on her face.
Before she could finish interrupting, David brought his hand up and continued to speak. “And, above all else, Sheila, I’m thinking about how much I hate doing this job.” When she made no move to continue, he followed through on this statement. “I don’t mind being a soldier. Always thought I would. I never liked being told what to do and when to do it, but I ended up being a pretty decent soldier. What I do mind is having to go out every day and kill other people, even people as bad as the League. Killing our fellow man... that’s not something we should be able to do lightly, even if we think they deserve it. We have no right to take life as easily as we do. The press of a button and thousands die? We talk about being nations under God…one of the Ten Commandments: thou shall not murder. Oh, we hide it, we justify it, but when one of our bombs goes off target and kills a hundred civilians, what does that make us? What have we become?” he asked in a rhetorical manner, taking a breath before he continued.
“So, yes, I think this is going to go nowhere. I think the League’s going to keep trying to grind us under until one or both of our nations are destroyed, but it doesn’t matter, because if we can have an end to this killing, even if just for a few decades, that will be well worth having to sit across the table from the man my father died fighting and eating a peaceful meal with him. Oh, I’ll even gladly toast his health if only it brings an end to this war,” David said with emphasis on the final few words. “And we’re going to be late if we don’t start walking now.” He forced an uncomfortable grin at her and walked toward the door.
Sheila turned her head and began to follow him, her face a frown with her mouth hanging open.
I may have overdone it a little, there. Okay, David. Time to get your head on straight.
27
In the cavernous flight deck of the Lion of Judah, the ship’s company had literally rolled out the red carpet for the League delegation. There was an actual red carpet for the League officers to walk out of their shuttle on, along with the flags of the Terran Coalition and the League of Sol, displayed on poles off to the side. The Marine Band and the honor guard, also Marines, were in full-dress uniforms, consisting of bright red uniform jackets, polished belts with gold buckles, and smartly pressed white pants, finished off with spit-shined black shoes. Looking over them as he strode onto the flight deck in his own full-dress uniform, David chuckled to himself. Leave it to the Marines to always be the best dressed. He made his way over to the drum major and complimented her on the band’s appearance. “So are we entertaining the President of the Coalition or the Admiral in charge of the League invasion of Canaan?” David asked the Master Sergeant Poirier.
She looked back at him, coming to attention along with the rest of the Marines. It was customary on a ship that the commanding officer, or any officer for that matter, had honors rendered upon first meeting of the day by any given enlisted personnel. The Marines, though, seemed to love to salute at the drop of a hat. “As you were,” David said to the band, and they all relaxed. The way Marines all moved together like a human wave had always impressed David. He doubted he would have succeeded as a Marine.
“I’d much rather it be the president, sir, though he would have his own band,” she said with a smile.
“The President’s Own, right?” David asked.
“Yes, sir. It’s the most elite group of musicians in the Coalition Marine Corps. Someday, I’d love to play with them.”
“Never give up on a dream. Before you and the band disembark, I’ve got to hear how you decided to join the Marines to be in the band,” David said, grinning.
Poirier laughed. “I get that a lot. It’s a fun one.”
“We’d better finish getting ready. I understand that the League really likes to be punctual. Something about the trains running on time,” David said with a smirk. “Carry on, Master Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir!” Poirier said crisply.
David strode over to the rest of his senior officer
s: Sheila, Hanson, Calvin, Amir, and Dr. Tural. Master Chief Tinetariro was present as well, with a contingent of enlisted crewmen in dress uniforms.
“Ready to go, ladies and gentlemen?” he asked them with a smile.
Sheila spoke for the group. “Oh, yes, sir. We’re just longing to have dinner with a shuttle full of League officers. Anything for peace, right?”
An announcement filled the flight deck. “League shuttle arrival in thirty seconds.”
“Okay, everyone, look alive!” David’s voice carried across the deck.
The Marines braced to attention, as did the enlisted crewmen. David and the rest of the officers took their positions as the League shuttle glided into the bay and set down gently next to the red carpet. After a moment, its side door opened, and a small honor guard strode out, goose-stepping down the ramp. Admiral Seville led the way, followed by several officers in full dress uniforms. A man in civilian attire came toward the end; David recognized him as the diplomatic minister, Jenner. As the last Leaguer exited the shuttle, Master Chief Tinetariro trilled her bosun’s pipe, piping them aboard with honors.
The gunnery sergeant in charge of the TCMC Honor Guard announced in a formal voice, “Arms, port!” The Marines snapped their gleaming rifles to port arms. “Attention, colors!” he bellowed.
At this, the band stood and began to play the anthem of the Terran Coalition; every member of the TCMC and CDF within the bay stood at attention and saluted. Admiral Seville and his officers also brought themselves to attention but did not salute. Minister Jenner placed his hand over his heart in what David thought was a show of respect.
As the final bars ended, there was a pregnant pause by the band before they then began to play the anthem of the League of Sol. Admiral Seville and the rest of the League contingent brought their hands up to their brows and smartly saluted their colors. David, and everyone else silently stood at attention. Standing here, listening to this music, is tearing me up inside. I can’t begin to believe the Marines aren’t hating this even more than I am. He forced himself to remember that it was a small indignity for peace, and well, the League just rendered honors to the Coalition flag, so maybe it evened out. The League anthem ended, and the band sat down again.
Seville stepped forward and addressed David. “Permission to come aboard, Colonel?”
“Permission granted, Admiral.”
“Allow me to introduce Diplomatic Minister Jenner, leader of our peace delegation, Colonel Strappi, the morale officer onboard the Destruction, and Fleet Captain Antonov, the commanding officer of my flagship,” Seville said, his face stoic and betraying little emotion.
“A pleasure, gentlemen,” David said, shaking hands with the League officers and Minister Jenner. “Allow me to introduce my senior staff: Major Sheila Thompson, executive officer, Major Arthur Hanson, chief engineer, Lieutenant Colonel Calvin Demood, Marine expeditionary force commander, Lieutenant Colonel Hassan Amir, flight wing commander, and Dr. Izmet Tural, our chief medical officer.”
Seville politely shook the hands of the senior officers as David introduced them.
“If you will follow me, sir, we have a dinner prepared in your honor,” David said as a way of wrapping up the introductions.
“Thank you, Colonel. I would be delighted,” Seville said with a smile on his face. As the League delegation walked away with David, Seville took the lead.
One of the nice things about a gigantic ship, David pondered, is that it has various rooms and venues that a smaller destroyer simply doesn’t have. On the Rabin, if they’d ever had a VIP onboard, which was unlikely to begin with, the wardroom would have been used for a dining hall. But on the Lion, they had a purpose-built dining room for guest VIPs. Following procedure, the Lion’s senior officers were in attendance, and Admiral Seville had brought his senior officers and staff. Not quite one for one as the regs suggested, but it was close enough. He’d reluctantly allowed Dr. Hayworth to join the dinner after Major Merriweather had suggested repeatedly that Hayworth was highly thought of, even in the League. Maybe he’d find some common ground with them. The last thing he needed now was the temperamental doctor causing problems in what needed to be a productive discussion.
David was seated at the head of table as the commanding officer, Seville was seated at the other end, and the various officers were intermingled with each other. The League’s senior diplomat, Minister Jenner, sat on David’s right.
Mess stewards brought in the first course of the meal as small talk was exchanged amongst the various guests. Jenner glanced at David. “Colonel, I must confess, we were shocked that you were sent to escort us.”
David raised an eyebrow in question. “Why is that, Minister?”
Jenner offered a small smile. “Our intelligence service was not aware that the Victory Project was this close to completion. It took us by surprise.”
David returned the smile while the wheels turned in his head. Why would he let that slip? “Perhaps the League’s intelligence gathering within the Terran Coalition isn’t what it used to be,” David said, trying to inject some humor and wondering if what he really meant was that they were astonished that David had been chosen to command the ship provided for escort, given the history between his father and Seville.
“Perhaps,” Jenner said with a polite chuckle. “Tell me, Colonel, how do you view our chances for peace?”
David eyed Jenner. Sheila, who sat several chairs down on the left, overheard Jenner’s question and looked toward David with a cautious expression. “I’m not sure, Minister. I’m hopeful that we can come to an agreement. No one in their right mind wants to get up each morning and go kill people.”
Jenner nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I see. Our propaganda says that all members of the Coalition Defense Force relish combat and long to die as martyrs for God.” The last bit of the sentence was said with a lighter lilt.
Sheila took the opportunity to interject, seeing David’s dark expression. “Well, Minister, I think that’s some bad intel,” she said with a light expression and tone. “We put an overwhelming emphasis on not dying.”
Calvin spoke up. “We Marines have another way of putting it. It’s not our job to die for our country; our job is to make the other guy die for his.”
There were some chuckles out of the people that heard him, including Jenner and David. “Point taken, Colonel Demood,” Jenner said. “Our own Marines have a similar saying. I think that sentiment traces all the way back to Earth.”
Catching his breath from laughing, David interjected, “I believe the earliest known expression of it is from a senator from ancient Rome. Cicero, if memory serves.”
Jenner turned to look at David with a quizzical expression. “You know Earth history, Colonel?” he asked, his tone implying this was some major revelation.
David couldn’t control the snicker that left his lips. “Yes, Minister. It’s in our school studies, and I took several courses on Earth history during my time at the Space Warfare College. I can’t tell you how many books I’ve read on the subject. History is fascinating to me.”
Jenner looked to the captain of the Destruction, Zehnya Antonov, who was several chairs down. “It appears that much of our intelligence is wrong.”
Calvin, who sat to the left of David, said sotto voice to him, “No wonder we keep kicking these guy’s asses.”
David couldn’t help but smirk at Calvin’s comment, even though he detested cursing. As the mess stewards finished setting down all the plates for the first course, which consisted of a salad, he cleared his throat. “Ladies, gentlemen, honored guests,” he said in a voice that carried over the rest. “It is CDF custom that before a meal, we offer thanks and ask for blessing to our Creator. I realize that we have in attendance those who do not believe; you should feel no obligation to join us.” He glanced toward Rabbi Kravitz. “Rabbi, please lead us in a blessing.” It was wardroom tradition that the prayer was offered in the faith of the commanding officer, and since David was Jew
ish, he had invited the rabbi to the dinner.
Kravitz made eye contact with several around him before bowing his head. The rest of the CDF officers did the same; Jenner joined in out of respect. The rest of the League officers simply looked at each other, while Dr. Hayworth made a display of rolling his eyes. “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, by Whose word all things came to be. Bless this food and our purpose here.” As he finished, the rest of the CDF officers raised their heads once more.
David picked up his glass and took a sip of water. “Thank you, Rabbi.”
“If I may, Colonel...” Seville said from the other end of the table. “I propose a toast for this fine occasion. The first time in four hundred years that our two sections of humanity have sat down together to discuss peace.”
Several heads turned toward David. He offered a diplomatic smile and raised his glass. “To peace then, Admiral.”
“Indeed. To peace for all mankind, regardless of ideology.” Seville ignored the stern look from Strappi as the assembled officers took a drink in unison. “These years of war have been a terrible waste of life and treasure, you understand. The League can no more sustain this bloodshed than you can, I would imagine, and it is time to end the fighting. It is time for peace.”
“Peace,” David said, nodding. “I only hope it’s something that lasts instead of the usual peace.”
“The usual peace, Colonel?” Jenner asked.
“A peace that is just to give everyone time to prepare for the next war.”
Silence broke out at the dinner table. Sheila looked at David with a scowl on her face, as if to say “What?!” Seville, however, looked at David for a quiet moment before he laughed out loud. “Ah, wonderful wit, Colonel,” he proclaimed. “Such cynicism! It breeds so well in people of our occupation, doesn’t it? Having death as a constant companion, never knowing when it will claim a friend, a lover, even oneself.”