by Daniel Gibbs
“Keep cranking. Godspeed, Kenneth.”
“Godspeed, sir.”
David left the room, leaving Kenneth standing there. He paused to pick up his tablet and its carrying bag, which held most of the things he needed to do his job. It felt good to have someone notice what we’re doing here and stand up for the team. Unable to suppress a grin, he pushed the door open and walked out, heading back toward his office to get on the with the day. I’m getting the team together, and we’re having a party tonight.
36
David’s face twitched as the news crew made what seemed like the five-hundredth lighting adjustment to his day cabin. He’d been waiting for thirty minutes while they set up, growing more impatient with every passing second. I could be doing something, anything, including paperwork, rather than watching these guys. Better yet, talking to Angie and thinking about normal life.
“Okay, I think we’re ready, Colonel,” Mathew Cantrell, the GNN reporter who was to interview him, announced.
“Good,” David replied, his tone barely hiding annoyance.
“Please, have a seat behind your desk.”
David realized he had a bit of pique at a civilian telling him to sit behind his desk. Suppressing the desire to roll his eyes, he dropped into the chair facing the holocamera—and Cantrell.
“If you would, please introduce yourself to our viewers, Colonel.”
“Colonel David Cohen, commanding officer, CSV Lion of Judah.”
“Thank you. I want to start by asking about your most recent deployment. Tracking down a traitor in the CDF… had to be a difficult assignment, yes?”
David narrowed his eyes and stared into the holocamera. “I’ve yet to receive an easy combat assignment, Mr. Cantrell.”
“But surely a traitor—”
“Is something I don’t understand,” David said quietly, his voice intent. “I’ve sworn my life to defending our country and our way of life. How someone who also wears this uniform could betray it all for the League, I can’t help you with a why. The situation, however, has been handled.”
“Can you shed any light on how the traitors were unmasked?”
“I’m afraid that would reveal classified sources and methods.”
Cantrell flashed a smile. “Of course. Moving on… the Lion of Judah was awarded its seventeenth battle star, yes?”
“That’s correct. We’re running out of room under the bridge to paint them on the hull.”
“More than any other non-carrier ship in the CDF fleet?”
“Yes, and only three carriers have more,” David replied with evident pride.
“Why is your ship apparently in all the big battles, Colonel?”
David shrugged and grinned. “It’s big, powerful, and has huge guns?”
“Fair enough. What I’m getting at, though, is the Lion of Judah has become a symbol. You and your crew too.”
“I think we’re all aware of our status… and I certainly try not to dwell on it.”
“Why is that? Why not embrace it?”
“Because it’s our job as soldiers to defend the citizens and constitution of the Terran Coalition. Not win popularity contests. Reporters like to say they can’t become the story. Same thing for us.”
Cantrell laughed. “Sounds like you’ve been hanging out with some of us too long, Colonel. Great analogy. Many people around the Terran Coalition are starting to ask, with the League defeated on our side of the Milky Way… why continue this war? Why not make peace with them?”
“I would remind anyone who asks what happened the last time we entertained peace with the League. I lost my XO and the Lion barely survived.”
“Does the personal element make it difficult for you to separate what’s good for you from what’s good for the republic as a whole?”
What is this guy, a counselor or a reporter? David adjusted himself in the chair, buying a few seconds as he composed his answer mentally. “A soldier obeys lawful orders. Period. I’m a soldier… and if my commander-in-chief orders us to stand down and signs a peace treaty with the League, I’ll obey, regardless of personal beliefs. As is my duty, if I’m asked to advise our civilian leadership on such a matter, I’d counsel them to grind the League down and never take our foot off their throat.”
“What makes you so adamant about your stance, Colonel?”
“Twenty years of fighting them, Mr. Cantrell. The horrific things I’ll never unsee… mass graves… reeducation camps… all the friends who will never go home. I believe the League is pure evil, and it must be defeated.”
“You mention the ones who don’t go home. Isn’t that one of the strongest arguments for peace?”
I’m getting into dangerous ground here. I shouldn’t be arguing politics with a reporter. “We owe it to everyone who has died so far to finish the fight, so their sacrifice wasn’t in vain.”
“A just peace would be in vain?”
David paused, set his jaw, and narrowed his eyes. “Mr. Cantrell, if we stop now, they’ll rebuild. When they finish rebuilding, the League will invade us again. It’s in their DNA. History shows us the League can’t be trusted. They built up power and took over Earth. They’ve tried for thirty years to impose their will on us. The only solution is total victory.”
“And the cost of lives?”
“I’d rather pay the bill now, including my own if it's required, than pass the task off to the next generation, thirty years from now.”
Cantrell shifted in his seat, flipping to another section of notes on his tablet. “Your team successfully liberated Freiderwelt from League control.”
“That’s correct.”
“How do you react to the news the Amish were treated well by the occupation forces and allowed to conduct their lives unmolested? That runs counter to the charges we regularly make of how life would be under League rule.”
“Seriously?” David asked as his jaw dropped open. “On the contrary, they were put through reeducation campaigns and spared solely because the League felt their cooperative community spirit was socialist. There were widespread human rights abuses, and atrocities committed by the occupation garrison.”
“But not as much as we would expect…”
“So they had a slightly less sadistic garrison commander. Who knows? They’re by far better off now, freed from the yoke of the League.”
“For what it’s worth, Colonel, I completely agree with you. But we must explore both sides.”
“In my mind, there is no ‘other side’ when it comes to League, Mr. Cantrell. There’s decent Leaguers, sure. But the government? No… I repeat my earlier statement. The League is pure evil.”
“What’s next for the Lion of Judah?”
David shrugged and smiled. “Some refits, a week of liberty for the crew, and then wherever our orders take us next.”
“Thank you, Colonel.” The light behind the camera blinked off, leaving the room with its familiar shadows and hues. “Off the record… how far would you go to defeat the League?”
“Anything within the confines of our laws and orders,” David replied. “With an added caveat that I will not compromise my beliefs to defeat the enemy. When we do that, we become our enemy.”
“Well said.”
“So how much of that will be reported accurately, and how much cut up and taken out of context?” David asked, his tone acerbic.
“I’m not in the business of hit pieces, Colonel,” Cantrell said tightly. “Your ship and crew will be presented fairly.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Cantrell replied as he stood; the camera crew had already packed up most of its gear. Tearing down was far faster and easier than setting up.
“Do you think we should aim for peace, as opposed to victory?”
Cantrell pursed his lips together. “I do. I think there’s been enough war, enough killing. Perhaps the military has grown to like war too much.”
David stood up from the desk, a wave of anger sweeping through him
. “Listen to me very carefully. While I can’t categorically state that no one in the CDF enjoys fighting… ninety-nine point nine percent of us hate it. We do this because we love our country and because we want to protect it. Not because of some blood lust that enjoys death.”
“I believe you believe what you say, Colonel,” Cantrell said evenly. “I doubt your numbers, though. Far more people like war than you’d care to admit. Defense contractors make trillions of credits off this war. It drives half our economy. There are factions within the CDF which would want it to continue forever.”
“Sounds like a conspiracy theory to me.”
“And you sound like wishful thinking to me.”
“I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree,” David finally said, his jaw set and anger still flashing in his eyes.
“Yes. If you’ll excuse us, Colonel.”
“Good day.”
David waited until they’d all left before sitting once more. Cantrell’s words stung him, more than he cared to admit. The specter of enjoyment of killing always troubled him. It seemed to stalk him from afar and up close. It’s something I must never give in to.
A few days later, after all the news crew had departed the Lion, David found himself having dinner in the officers’ mess nearest the bridge. I’m such a creature of habit. He stared out at the scene in orbit of Canaan. Dozens of capital ships in orbit were beyond the translucent metal windows, and the lights of orbital habitat and shipyards lit up the night. He heard a familiar voice call behind him.
“Colonel, may I join you, sir?”
David looked up to see Ruth, carrying a glass of water and her tray. “Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the open chair in front of him.
Ruth set her items down gently and opened the wrapper with a fork and knife. “Thank you, sir.”
“I would remind you that, in the mess, customs and courtesies don’t apply,” David said gently.
“I’m sorry… I tend to retreat into the rigid formality of the job.”
“Same here, especially when I’m troubled. I haven’t seen a lot of you since you got back from Freiderwelt,” David observed.
“Taking some personal time. sir.”
“I read your after-action report, Ruth,” David said, choosing to use her first name to remind her of their friendship. “You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Ruth replied. “You once warned me if I continued to hate the League, it would eventually eat me alive. I saw what happened to Colonel Demood last year,” she said, her voice trailing off before she continued. “And for whatever reason, I just can’t set it aside. I tried to tell Master Chief MacDonald my lust for killing Leaguers got his man killed, but he wouldn’t have any of it.”
“Oh?”
“He told me I was an idealist at heart.”
“I think the Master Chief is a rather astute fellow,” David said with a grin. “What’s going on here?”
“The girl that helped us—Susanna—she looked up to me. She thought I was something worth emulating. I realized it when she told me that her big plan was to join the CDF and help protect the galaxy.”
“From where I sit, you’d be something to look up to if I was a teenager too.”
“That means a lot, coming from you.”
“Calling it as I see it.”
“I encouraged her not to.”
David raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because I’m afraid if she tried to be like me, she’d eventually end up like me. Cold, bitter, angry, and enjoying every time I erase a League ship, and more importantly, the Leaguers on it from the universe.”
Okay, that’s pretty intense. “I thought you were making progress there?” he asked. “It’s not lost on me that you’ve been spending a bit of time around Lieutenant Taylor. I thought perhaps the two of you were getting through your shared losses together.”
“Nothing like that,” Ruth replied as she blushed. “He’s just someone I can share my feelings with sometimes. Heck, I don’t even let him in. I don’t let anyone in.”
“I know what you mean,” David admitted. “Neither did I, for a long time. You have no idea how close I came to complete mental collapse after Sheila was killed.”
“We were all worried about you.”
“Yeah, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that unless I had the experience I had, I wouldn’t be here today.”
Ruth frowned. “I don’t even want to think about that.”
“Neither do I. Listen, it took me a long time to get over her death. I’m still not over it. I live with it, some days better than others. Every time I have to send a letter to someone’s family telling them their son or daughter, father or mother, husband or wife isn’t coming home, it’s not a good day. It’s not supposed to be a good day.”
“How do you get through it?”
“You remember why we’re here. You remind yourself tomorrow will be better and the people under your command need the best leadership you have to offer. And you pray, a lot.”
Ruth smiled. “You make it sound far too easy.”
“Nah, just have a good rabbi and some great friends to keep me on the straight and narrow. Speaking of the rabbi, when was the last time you went to the shul?”
“It’s been a few months,” Ruth confessed. “I’ve been going to the Christian chapel instead, though I haven’t been there much lately either.”
“I see.”
“I know you don’t approve.”
“Ruth, I’d never tell you I don’t approve of your religious choices. I’m not that guy. If it’s what you’ve come to believe, then who I am to say you’re wrong? It’s not like you started practicing satanism,” David deadpanned.
“I’m not sure what I believe anymore.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I wonder if God wants anything to do with me after all I’ve done.”
“Sometimes, I have the same question about myself.”
“Have you come to a conclusion?”
“Rabbi Kravitz says God doesn’t consider killing in a war a sin. The Torah says it too. I believe it,” David replied. “But I don’t think God is happy at war. I think He would prefer we not resort to fighting each other for thirty years. I also know this is a just war. Ultimately, the souls I grieve over are the innocents I know I’ve killed while doing my duty and the ones I’ve failed to save.”
“Maybe,” Ruth replied. “I don’t feel a connection with God anymore. There’s all this noise around me, like a cacophony of chaos.”
“And then there was a still, small voice.”
“The voice of the Lord,” Ruth said, a rueful smile on her face. “I haven’t heard that voice in a long time.”
“Then seek it. I believe God is always close at hand to those of us who call His name. Jew or gentile.”
“What about Jews examining different religions?”
“Especially those,” David replied, a small grin coming across his face.
“Maybe I’ve gone too far to reach back,” Ruth said with a frown, looking beyond David and out at the ships in orbit.
“I don’t believe that. You’ve got a good heart.”
“How can you possibly know that? Only God knows what’s truly on our hearts.”
“I’ve found it to be fairly easy to tell who’s evil.”
“Care to share?”
“Those without remorse; those who never question any actions they take. The very fact you’re disturbed by some of the things you’ve done tells me you’re not remotely beyond redemption.”
“I think that’s what maybe draws me to Christianity,” Ruth said softly. “The idea maybe my sins can be forgiven. I’m not sure even Jesus can forgive me.”
“Well, if Jesus is the Messiah we’ve been waiting for, I’m going to be in a lot of trouble, given my belief structure,” David replied. “But let’s suppose for a moment that’s the case. I’ve read the Christian bible. It says plainly, if you repe
nt of your sins, He is faithful and just to forgive you.”
“Thanks.”
“You’ve got a decision coming up. Don’t be afraid to make it, regardless of your choice.”
Ruth smiled but didn’t say anything. Instead, she glanced down at her food. “I haven’t touched my chicken.”
“I think they’ve got a machine that warms it up.”
“Very cute,” Ruth said with a laugh.
“I’m still quite disturbed that an officer of the Coalition Defense Force, especially a senior officer, would turn traitor,” David said, changing the subject.
“You and me both. Or that he recruited others.”
“CDF Intelligence is trying to figure out how far it went.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard some bizarre things on Voice of the Coalition, and on the various news outlets.”
“Oh?” David asked.
“It’s hit people hard. Of course, the crazies screaming about spies hiding among us are emboldened and yelling all the more.”
David made a face. “I can’t stand those nuts. Screaming about conspiracies. We’ve got big enough problems without fear mongering.”
The hatch to the mess suddenly swung open, drawing David’s attention. MacDonald, Harrell, Rostami, Mata, and Ahmad burst in with a drink cart he’d heard about from the last time they invaded the officers’ mess.
“There goes the neighborhood,” Ruth said with a giggle. “I can’t believe they get away with this.”
“It’s their tradition for sticking it to us ‘cake eaters,’ as they love to call officers,” David remarked. “Truth be told, I enjoy it. I was never much for all the customs and courtesies.”
“If you ain’t spacewalking, you ain’t shit!” Harrell yelled as he pushed the cart up to a table, clanking it loudly.
“That’s got to be the silliest tagline ever,” Ruth continued.
“I’ve got five hundred credits if you have the balls to walk over there and tell them,” David said, grinning.
“Make it fifty thousand and you’ve got a deal.”
“Touché.”
