Fight the Good Fight

by Daniel Gibbs

  “I’m not going to be of much use. I can’t feel my legs,” Seville said, his voice weak and hoarse.

  “Just lie still. We’re only a hundred meters from safety.”

  All he’d have to do is leave me to die. I would have left him, just like I left his counterpart twenty-seven years ago. Why would he help me now?

  Strappi picked him up again by the shoulders and dragged Seville down the corridor. It seemed like hours before they reached a bank of escape pods, and he was roughly shoved into the nearest open hatch. As the pod hurtled toward the lone League vessel that remained intact, he pondered what had gone wrong.

  I don’t care what it takes or how long it takes me. I will kill David Cohen and destroy the Terran Coalition. Pain spread across every fiber of his being, while his mind focused on one thing—and one thing only—revenge.

  36

  Calvin looked down at the ticking clock; it was almost like something out of a goofy holodrama, each second one closer to their last. “Gunny, can you disarm this thing?” he asked Uzun before taking up a defensive position in front of the console.

  Uzun immediately pulled out a small tablet and began interfacing it with the League machine. After thirty seconds, he looked up at Calvin. “Colonel, without the command codes for this ship, I can’t disarm the self-destruct from here.”

  Calvin whirled around. “Gunny, I need options. Right now, because leaving my brothers and sisters behind is not an option.”

  “I can disarm it from inside the reactor core.”

  Inside his helmet, Calvin made a face. “Gunny, isn’t an energized reactor core highly radioactive, not to mention incredibly hot?”

  “This ship’s reactor was SCRAMED, so it’s cooled off enough that I can walk around it inside of my suit.”

  “Okay, but the radiation hasn’t just disappeared. You can’t go in there,” Calvin retorted.

  Uzun grabbed Calvin’s battle armor and pulled his helmet in so they were touching, “Colonel, listen to me. I have to disarm the self-destruct on this ship or we’re all dead. There’s still enough time for the boarding teams to get out, but not to evacuate the POWs. I’m not leaving a brother or sister in arms behind, just as much as you wouldn’t. The only way for me to stop that self-destruct is to enter the reactor core.”

  Calvin shook his head inside his helmet, “No can do, Gunny. You enter that core and you’re dead. There’s got to be another way.”

  Uzun shook Calvin’s battle armor. “I will have forty-five seconds once I get inside. That’s enough to cut the required circuits so that the self-destruct charges won’t fire. There is no other way. Now get the hell out of my way.”

  Calvin knew Uzun was right. He would do it himself, but he didn’t know what to do inside the core. “Okay, Gunny. When you get to heaven’s shores, you make sure they’re properly guarded by Marines, you hear me?” he said, trying his utmost to push the pain out of his voice as he stepped aside.

  Uzun pushed forward, entering the heavily lead-lined airlock that led to the reactor core. “I will do my best, Colonel.” As the airlock cycled, he continued, “Colonel, it was an honor to serve with you.”

  Calvin watched from the window on the other side of the airlock. “Likewise, Gunny. Godspeed.”

  Uzun snapped off a final salute in Calvin’s direction as the inner airlock door opened and he dashed through. The door automatically closed behind him.

  Calvin stood in front of the airlock that led to the reactor, staring at the countdown on the heads-up display inside of his battle armor. After forty seconds, and with fifteen seconds to go on the countdown, he heard Uzun’s scratchy voice within his communications set.

  “Colonel... it’s done. I disconnected more than enough circuits to prevent a self-destruct.”

  Calvin could hear Uzun coughing and gasping for breath. “Gunny, you hang tight. I’m going to get help and we’re going to get you out of there,” he said, knowing as he uttered the words they were a lie.

  “You’re a good liar, Colonel. I only have one request. Tell my wife and my sons that I love them very much and that I hope to see them again in paradise.”

  Calvin almost told Uzun that he’d tell them himself but decided against it. There was no way the man was walking out of that core alive. “You have my word, Gunny,” Calvin said, choking down his own emotion.

  “Thank you, Colonel.”

  “You hang in there, Uzun. That’s an order, Marine.”

  There’s gotta be a way for me to get in here. Calvin ran the gauntlet of his suit across the airlock opening, scanning its interior. The radiation was off the charts. I go in there, I’m dead too. Nothing I can do to help him now. He pulled up the lifesign indicator for Uzun’s suit and found it had flatlined. “Damn it.”

  Calvin looked up to see Cabello and two other Marines walking toward him. Cabello approached, brought himself to attention, and saluted Calvin. “Colonel, mission accomplished. This ship is secured.”

  Calvin quickly returned the salute. “Good work, Major. Casualties? Status of the POWs?”

  “Six Marines KIA, sir. Almost everyone else on the breach team was wounded, including me. Minor injuries for the most part. A lot of bruised egos,” Cabello answered with something of a smirk. “POWs are secured, but they’re not in great shape. We need to get doctors up here, and they’ll need some food. Still, this is a good day. We saved a lot of our own.”

  Calvin looked over his shoulder at the airlock door. “It still cost us a lot. Uzun sacrificed himself to stop the self-destruct.” Calvin turned back to Cabello. “There are days I get really sick of this war, Major. I’m sick of seeing good men and women willingly sacrifice themselves just to save another. It’s a damn waste if you ask me. All for some bunch of communist assholes that can’t be content with controlling hundreds of planets.” He was silent for a moment as his eyes swept the engineering space. “Get support up here and start rounding up the prisoners.”

  “Yes, sir!” Cabello said crisply before turning away to carry out his orders.

  Calvin stared at the airlock door, thinking about Uzun’s sacrifice, the sacrifice of so many of the men and women under his command over the years, his own sacrifices, and those of his wife. While saving the POWs was a victory, it seemed like a bitter defeat to have been so close to peace, only to find out it was all a lie.

  37

  In the intervening minutes, the last two League ships jumped out, taking with them as many lifepods as they could carry. Their exit was so hasty that the League ships left behind many pods, which the Lion’s search and rescue teams collected, along with ejected pilots.

  David observed that the mood on the bridge of the Lion of Judah was one of near jubilation as he stared at the tactical view, watching as Colonel Amir’s wing returned. He shared their mood, knowing that the decisive defeat of the League battle group could mark a turning point in the war. If nothing else, it would provide a much-needed boost to the flagging morale of a war-weary nation. What better way to do that than by destroying the flagship of the League fleet and hopefully killing its leader?

  He chastised himself for hoping Seville dead. Regardless of the man’s crimes, David knew it wasn’t his place to judge. That was God’s job, but a part of him sorely hoped that one of the shells fired into the side of the Destruction had arranged a face-to-face meeting today. Where’s Sheila? She needs to get back up here to share in the celebration for a job well done.

  Taylor interrupted David’s thoughts. “Conn, communications. I have Colonel Demood for you, sir, on the video link.”

  “Put him through to my viewer, Lieutenant.”

  A moment later, Calvin’s face appeared on David’s monitor, blood streaked and his armor blackened. “Sir, can you hear me?” Calvin asked.

  “Loud and clear, Colonel.”

  “Sir, we’ve secured the transport and rescued at least three thousand POWs. Mission accomplished,” Calvin said with a sense of pride.

  David sat back in his chair. �
��That…is incredible news, Colonel. Any causalities on our side?”

  “Light, sir. I’ve got eighteen Marines KIA, twenty-three seriously wounded, and I think almost all of us got hit by something.” Calvin cracked a smile as he finished the last line. “We gave a hell of a lot better than we took, sir.”

  David nodded into his viewer. “Good job, Demood. We’ll be back shortly.”

  “One other thing, Colonel. We lost a contractor who volunteered for the mission. One of the finest displays of bravery I’ve ever seen. Without him, none of us would be here. You make sure he’s remembered.”

  “You have my word. No one will be forgotten today,” David said, raising an eyebrow at the mention of a contractor going into combat. He decided not to inquire about the clearly broken regulations.

  “Thank you, sir. Demood out.”

  David looked around the bridge, standing to acknowledge the celebration with his crew. “Good job, everyone,” he said in a loud voice to no one in particular before putting his hands together as he started to clap.

  The result was infectious; officers, enlisted personnel, and senior NCOs all clapped and cheered. Then, as quickly as it started, the release of emotion was done; the bridge crew went back to their duties, and David stared forward, proud of them for what they accomplished.

  “Sir,” Taylor said with an unusual tenor to his voice. “I have a message for you from engineering. I think you may want to take this in private.”

  David looked to Taylor quizzically. “I’m sure I can hear anything from engineering on the bridge, Lieutenant. What’s going on?”

  Taylor swallowed hard. “Sir, Major Thompson was in the forward magazine when it was exposed to vacuum. She was sucked into space, sir.”

  Even as Taylor said the words, David tried to rationalize it away. “Our emergency pressure suits only have six hours of air. We need to get search and rescue into space immediately. Contact Colonel Amir on a priority channel, Lieutenant.”

  Taylor eye’s locked down. “I’m sorry, sir. She wasn’t wearing a suit, sir.” Taylor looked back up. “There is no way she could have survived, sir.”

  David was stunned and at a loss for words for a few moments. His mind ran through any scenario in which Sheila could have survived…but found none. As it started to sink in, his emotions began to fail him. Everything began to fail him. The room spun, and all he could think of was that it couldn’t be true, that it had to be a bad dream, it couldn’t be real. When the spinning stopped and Taylor was still staring at him, the enormity of losing his best friend hit him like a ton of bricks.

  “I see,” he said slowly. “Deploy search and rescue. We owe it to her to find her body to bring home for a proper Christian burial.” He stumbled over the final words, not wanting them to be true. His voice broke, and he almost started sobbing right there on the bridge.

  “Yes, sir, immediately, sir.”

  Ruth and Hammond looked at each other from their respective consoles, looks of concern appearing on their faces.

  “Lieutenant Goldberg, you have the conn,” David said slowly. He stood up from his chair and stepped to one side.

  Ruth stood up. “This is Lieutenant Goldberg, I have the conn,” she said formally, sitting down in the command chair.

  “I will be in my cabin,” David said with great difficulty. His objective now was just to get off the bridge without breaking down in tears in front of his crew.

  As he walked toward the back of the bridge where the exit was, each step became harder. Every passing second seemed like an eternity. His steps slowed and tears ran down his face. Master Chief Tinetariro saw it and walked to his side.

  “Let me help you, sir,” she said under her breath, not wishing to draw attention to the obvious pain and anguish. Taking David’s arm, she guided him into the gangway behind the bridge. After the door to the bridge closed behind them, he looked at her. “Thank you, Master Chief,” he managed to get out between sobs. “I need to be alone.”

  “I know what you’re going through, sir. I’ve had to lay too many friends into the dirt. If you want to talk, I’m here,” Tinetariro said.

  “I’ve lost more friends than I can count…but this…” David swallowed hard. “This is just different. Not her…”

  “If I die in cold space, send my body home to rest, fold my hands across my chest, and tell my mom I did my best,” Tinetariro said, repeating an often-heard CDF marching cadence.

  Slowly growing numb, David halfway smiled despite the tears rolling down his face. “Thank you, Master Chief,” he said sadly. “Carry on.”

  Tinetariro nodded silently and watched as David made his way down the passageway.

  38

  Several hours later, Ruth still held the conn. Causality reports were coming in, and the rescue teams combing the wreckage of the League ships had finished their work. Of the twenty-nine fighters and bombers that had been lost, search and rescue had found eighteen of the pilots and brought them home safe. They’d lost another nine personnel onboard the Lion, plus the Marines that had died storming the transport. After entering all the names into the ship’s log, Ruth transmitted the list and the actions of the day to the CDF Command.

  Dozens of ships’ worth of reinforcements had arrived, led by the CSV Ark Royal and her battle group. General Barton, however, was conspicuously absent. Ruth found herself hoping he had been relieved of command. I hate defeatists. Hanging over the bridge, however, was the death of Sheila. Ruth had grown to count her as a close friend in the seven months they had served together, but she knew that Sheila meant far more to David. She understood that they’d known each other since boot camp, nearly seventeen years ago. After his exit from the bridge, all of them knew that David’s spirit was crushed. Ruth had prayed for him and dearly hoped he would walk back through the doors at the aft of the bridge to retake command. At least the rescue teams had located her body; it could be given the proper burial that Sheila deserved.

  “Conn, communications. I have General MacIntosh requesting a video link,” Taylor said.

  “Communications, route it to the command viewer.”

  A few seconds later, General MacIntosh’s face appeared on the viewer. His features curled with surprise as he realized Ruth was in the CO’s chair. “Lieutenant Goldberg,” he said without preamble. “I didn’t expect to see you holding the conn. Where is Colonel Cohen and Major Thompson?”

  Ruth swallowed. “Sir, have you received the reports we passed back through the Ark Royal?”

  MacIntosh stared at her in a way that betrayed his impatience. “Nothing detailed, Lieutenant. All I know is that we won. Now answer my question.”

  “Colonel Cohen is in his quarters, sir. Major Thompson was killed in action.”

  MacIntosh’s mouth dropped open and hung there for a moment. “I see. I’m sorry, Lieutenant. What’s the status of the rest of the crew and the ship?”

  “We had light causalities, sir, mostly among our pilots and the Marines. The ship took some armor and hull damage, but we’re fine. Nothing a couple of days docked at Canaan station can’t fix,” Ruth said, focusing her mind elsewhere to avoid any display of emotion.

  “That is good to hear, Lieutenant. When are you jumping back to Canaan?”

  “As soon as we recover the last of our search and rescue craft, General.”

  “Very well. Please pass on my condolences to Colonel Cohen. I’ll be waiting for you all at the Canaan station. Godspeed, MacIntosh out.”

  The viewer shut off before Ruth could respond. She then turned to Taylor. “Communications, signal our search and rescue unit. Please confirm they are returning to the ship and have completed their work.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Taylor said. A few moments later, he spoke again.. “They should be back onboard within thirty minutes, conn.”

  “Navigation, make ready to jump back to Canaan as soon as they’re fully onboard.”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  The time seemed to pass by quickly for Ruth as the fina
l wave of search and rescue craft were onboard back into the hangar bays of the Lion. Ruth reviewed the logs from the weapons and defensive systems during the engagement for the fiftieth time. In the coming days, she was certain that she could get better performance out of the systems of the ship now that they had concrete data on how the new technology performed in actual combat.

  Once the air boss had confirmed that the hangar was secured, Ruth said, “Navigation, are we ready to jump back to Canaan?”

  “Charged and ready to engage, ma’am.”

  “Navigation, engage Lawrence drive.”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  Hammond triggered the Lion’s massive Lawrence drive, opening an artificial wormhole directly in front of the mighty ship. Flying through the wormhole under sub-light propulsion, the Lion crossed several lightyears of space in the blink of an eye.

  “Conn, navigation. Wormhole transit complete; emergence within hundred kilometers of projected.”

  “Navigation, put us into orbit around Canaan. Communications, signal Canaan space control and request a berth at Canaan’s main shipyard,” Ruth ordered.

  As Ruth’s commands were acknowledged and she gave the order to dock at Canaan’s main shipyard, the third watch tactical officer that currently manned the tactical station turned back to look at her. “Ma’am, I think you might want to see this.”

  Ruth raised an eyebrow at the young man, who was clearly departing from bridge protocol. “What is it, Lieutenant?”

  “It would be best if I put up on our main viewer.”

  “Very well.”

  A moment later, the holoscreen came alive with images of the exterior ship. There were dozens of ships, mostly CDF, some national state militaries of the CDF, and even civilian yachts lining the route the Lion would take to her berth. As the Lion passed, each ship fired a tracer round from their magnetic-cannons or made a visual display of some kind.