by Daniel Gibbs
MacDonald set five shot glasses up on the table they’d taken over and started pouring a brown liquid that David assumed was whiskey into them. Someone noticed Ruth was present; he wasn’t sure which one. Mata walked toward the two of them.
“You’ve been spotted,” David commented dryly.
“LT in the house!” Mata thundered in his slight Spanish accent.
Ruth whirled around to face him. “Chief,” she replied.
“Care to join us, LT? We have a little ceremony we do when someone dies in an op. We’d all like you to join in.”
David inclined his head just a bit. “Don’t say no on my account.”
Ruth smiled uncomfortably and stood up. “I’d be honored to, Chief.”
“Well, come on, these shots aren’t waiting all night!”
Ruth followed Mata back to the table, where magically, another shot glass had been procured. It too was full to the brim with the dark brown liquid.
“Seeing as how you’re the ranking officer here, LT… any words before we begin?” MacDonald asked.
Grasping one of the shot glasses in her hand, Ruth raised it high. “Let us give thanks to God for the blessings we have received. Let us give thanks to our brothers and sisters in arms,” she began.
The traditional toast for the fallen. I remember saying that for Sheila. David furrowed his brow at the sad thought.
“Let us remember the price that is paid for the freedoms we enjoy. Petty Officer Meissner was one of us. We knew him. He was brave, and he paid the ultimate price without regard for himself. We remember him tonight, that he fought and died, not in vain but in honor. Let us never forget our fallen comrades. We knew them, we’ll remember them, and they will never be forgotten!”
The entire mess had stopped whatever they were doing to watch the toast; as Ruth concluded, everyone present repeated the refrain. “To our fallen!”
David smiled as Ruth downed the shot in one gulp, as did the rest of the commandos. She’s going to make one heck of a leader.
“Got any plans for the rest of the night, LT?” Harrell asked.
“I was going to turn in before too long.”
“Wrong answer!” MacDonald said.
Ruth forced a smile. “What are you guys planning to do besides get wasted?”
“There’s something to do besides getting wasted?” Mata said, laughing at the same time.
“I thought we could moon Demood’s quarters from space,” MacDonald suggested.
David laughed out loud from halfway across the room at the mental image that popped into his head. He stood and made his way over to the commandos and Ruth. “I’d pay real money to see you try it, Master Chief.”
“How much?”
“Five hundred credits.”
“Takes what, fifteen seconds of exposure to vacuum before your insides blow out?” MacDonald said rhetorically.
“About that,” Harrell replied. “Should be enough to drop the suit, press up against the window, and pull back up.”
“You guys are nuts.”
“Sorry for busting into your meal, sir. Didn’t realize you’d be here.”
“I’ll excuse it for tonight, gentlemen,” David said, unable to suppress a grin. “Fine work by all of you. Liberating Freiderwelt was a real victory. You should be proud of your contributions.”
“I have to admit, we weren’t sold on your TAO at first, but she’s all right. We’ll take her back any time. How about it, LT, put in for a MOS change and try out for BSD.”
“BSD?” Ruth asked, looking lost.
“Basic Space Demolition,” David said, filling in the acronym. “Hardest course in the CDF.”
“Hoorah!” several commandos shouted at once.
“Sorry, guys, but I’m going to stick to my console. It’s what I’m best at.”
“Nothing wrong with blasting those Leaguer assholes out of the universe with the biggest guns ever invented,” Harrell said while pouring another shot.
“I’m going to leave you all with it,” David said as he turned his head toward Ruth. “Don’t forget, you’ve got the first watch.”
“Yes, sir,” Ruth replied.
“Goodnight everyone, again. Good show,” David finished, walking out of the mess to the continued shouts and cheers of the commandos. Ruth’s in for a long night. It’ll be good for her.
37
July 25th, 2461
League Navy Headquarters
Switzerland, Earth
Far away from the front lines of the war, Admiral Pierre Seville sat in his office, staring at the Director of the League’s External Security Service, Dmitry Borisov. The director had requested, which meant he’d insisted on a meeting to discuss the outcome of their operation against the Terran Coalition’s supply lines. I detest this man. He’s so incredibly arrogant. I loathe his presence and his agency.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Dmitry?”
“I thought you might want to be filled in, albeit it after the fact, on our actions,” Borisov replied, a small smirk plastered on his face.
“In so far as the intelligent asset you developed inside of the CDF?”
“It wasn’t just one,” Borisov gloated. “I had most of the officers on one of their prized elite stealth ships.”
For once in his life, Seville was impressed by a spy. “How’d you pull that off?”
“Do you have anything decent to drink around here, Admiral?”
“Any preferences?”
“I suppose its cliché, but I do love a good vodka. With a touch of lemon.”
Seville stood up and walked to a bookcase; he opened a cabinet on it and withdrew a bottle of clear liquid. “I understand this is a good year… twenty-four fifty-two. Traditional Russian vodka.” At Borisov’s nod of approval, he splashed a generous pour into two glasses and topped them with a spray of lemon juice. He handed one to the dour Russian and sat the other down on his desk as he plopped back down into his leather chair. “To good health and the success of our partnership, Director!”
Borisov raised his glass, as did Seville, before taking a sip. “Ah, it’s the small things in life,” he said. “They make it all worthwhile. As to how I pulled that off… remember my remarks that the Terran Coalition is made up of many different groups?”
“Yes, I do.”
“You see, it’s a matter of fracturing those groups and reminding them of the differences they share while exploiting the basic human fear of otherness. In the League, we force everyone to be the same. Regardless of if they want to or not. The Terrans do it differently. They figured out how to get many different groups to work together.”
“From many, one,” Seville said. “One of their mottos.”
“E Pluribus Unum,” Borisov corrected. “Out of many, one. It’s the key to their success, and their defeat.”
“I still don’t follow.”
“I used undercover operatives to convince an otherwise decent, loyal, Christian officer that his government was corrupt and abusing the poor. We then convinced him that the Socialism of the League was the salvation of all. Before long, we had him operating his own branch of the Fabian Society and recruiting fellow Christian officers to it.”
“That’s brilliant,” Seville blurted out. “A pity the damnable Colonel Cohen foiled our plans. That man is a thorn in our side. You ought to figure out how to have him removed.”
“We will remove him someday, Admiral. You should try to avoid fixating on any one man. It leads to moments of impertinence and poor decision-making.”
“That one man has defeated us too many times. He is a symbol, along with the damned ship of theirs.”
“Perhaps. In this instance, however, I gave the Terrans the breadcrumbs to figure out who our mole was.”
Seville did a double take. “You what? Are you a traitor?” he exclaimed.
“Of course not, Admiral,” Borisov chided. “It’s all part of the grand plan.”
“What grand plan?”
&n
bsp; “The destruction of the Terran Coalition from within.”
“You keep saying that,” Seville complained. “But I’ve yet to see the substance behind your boasts.”
“Consider this act one. If you look over the media outlets and what they’re spewing today, it’s all about this officer and his actions. The Terrans allow free speech. Indeed they can say just about anything they want,” Borisov said, his voice betraying his amazement at such a concept. “Some of them are saying Major Drymand was right in his assessment of corruption and lack of concern for the poor. Some say he’s an abject traitor and should be shot on the spot. Still others claim there’s a large network of spies throughout the Terran Coalition, and anyone who supports socialism in any form should be purged.”
“I think I begin to see your point,” Seville said, a small grin growing on his face. “They’re whipping themselves into a frenzy over this one event.”
“Which will turn into more than one event in time. I’ll feed them a steady diet of traitors and socialists in their midst. Eventually, I will stoke religious extremism amongst those who used to fight one another. It wasn’t that long ago that Jews and Muslims fought one another to the death over their supposed holy lands. We will provoke and fan the flames of discord throughout their entire pathetic republic.”
“It will take more than a few traitors to do that, Director.”
“Oh, that’s not the only tool in my bag of tricks. The very essence of their society… its openness… it’s a weakness I’ll exploit. They trust everyone. They trust everything they read on their social media platforms, on their holochannels. By injecting stories that are believable, but ultimately false, we can bend the narrative to fit our ends. They’ll be powerless to stop it and won’t even realize what's happening until it’s far, far too late.”
I wonder if he’s wily enough to pull this off or merely insane. “What next, then?”
“I have other operations in progress, Admiral. They’re classified at the highest levels, and above your need to know. I’ll make you aware of them when it’s time.”
Seville fought to keep his face from twisting in rage. How dare this master of the shadows talk down to me. “I expect it to be sooner rather than later, Director,” he said, his tone like ice.
“For this partnership to work, Admiral… both of us must remember our places, and our strengths. Mine is the work behind the scenes. Yours is actual combat. If I do my job right, yours will be far easier than it would be alone. Need I remind you, the track record of the League Navy against the CDF hasn’t been stellar.”
“We don’t have enough ships to impose our will on them,” Seville fumed.
“Which is why we must weaken them from within.”
“I don’t disagree with the strategy; I simply want to be involved.”
“You will be, Admiral. At the right time. For now, keep marshaling your forces. The Terrans are coming. When they do, it will be up to you to defeat them and pursue them all the back to Canaan for a decisive battle.”
“I look forward to the day.”
Borisov smiled thinly. “I have no doubt that you do. I, for one, live for the game of deception. When we finally defeat the Terrans, I will have lost one of my best opponents. That will be a sad day for me, because I have to look another group to match wits against.”
“I’m sure you’ll be up to that task, Director.”
“Oh, no doubt,” Borisov replied before he stood up from the chair. “Good day, Admiral.”
38
Not entirely sure how I did it, but I’m not drunk, and the commandos aren’t pissed at meRuth finally left their company around 0200 CMT, making her way back toward her quarters, several decks down from the officers’ mess near the bridge. The route she chose took her right by one of the four chapels on the Lion of Judah. She rounded the corner and realized she’d chosen the path for a reason.
Ruth stood outside of its hatch, peering at the service schedule; the various Christian faiths shared the same space and staggered their services. She had attended several nondenominational services in the months after Sheila’s death, before she stopped going to anything – shul or otherwise. For some reason though, tonight, the doors beckoned.
The hatch swung back, and another officer filled the space in front of her. “Lieutenant!” the other woman said, clearly startled. Ruth recognized her as Major Estrada, one of the Christian chaplains.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Ruth said, jumping back a bit herself. “I was coming to…” she began before her voice trailed off. “I’ll just be going.”
“Wait!”
Ruth turned back, looking toward her.
“Please, come in. I’m always here to talk, and the look on your face says you need to,” Estrada said with an easy grin.
“You sure?” Ruth replied. “It’s very late, and I know you have duties in the morning.”
“Never too late to talk to a friend. Besides, it’s been forever since I’ve seen you near the chapel.”
Ruth followed her back into the chapel, looking around the nondescript room; while containing many symbols of Christianity, since a wide variety of denominations used it, the room itself lacked much in the way of adornments.
“Sit anywhere you like,” Estrada quipped. “Plenty of seats.”
Ruth laughed and sat down in one the nearest row of chairs that were secured to the deck plating so they wouldn’t fly around during combat maneuvers. She folded her hands in front of her and glanced down.
“What’s on your mind?”
“I feel lost, Pastor,” Ruth began. “I should warn you I’ve had a few drinks tonight.”
“Hanging out with Alpha team?”
“How’d you know?” Ruth blurted out. “This ship is so small.”
“Very small. When a group of enlisted guys busts into the officers’ mess, especially the one closest to the bridge, it gets around fast. From what I heard, you earned their respect.”
Ruth shrugged. “Maybe. It doesn’t entirely register with me. None of it does. I’ve just kept on, forcing myself to keep trudging forward. One foot in front of the other foot, never looking back.” Tears began to flow down her face.
Estrada reached out and put her hand on Ruth’s shoulder. “Part of this job is being a counselor, you know. What’s going on, Ruth?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t ever act like this,” Ruth said between sobs. “Remembering my parents, remembering what happened to me on Freiderwelt; it’s catching up, and I can’t make it stop.”
“There’s nothing wrong with allowing yourself to feel.”
“I feel so alone,” Ruth admitted. “I wonder if God is there, I wonder if He cares about me, or anyone. If He does, why do we have to go through this? There’s this hole in me, Pastor. I’ve tried so hard to fill it in,” she continued, openly weeping. “I thought I could fill in by killing the people responsible for killing my parents, but it didn’t. Then I dedicated my life to stopping the League, by killing as many of them as I could. That didn’t fill in the hole either. Back on Freiderwelt over the last few days, I tried to liberate my home. I saved a young woman from the fate that befell me. I even encouraged her not to follow in my steps.” Ruth looked up, tears streaming out of her eyes. “But I still feel so empty inside. Lifeless, soulless. Like nothing matters. I feel like I’m just an automation.” Just saying that makes me feel so weak and useless.
“You’re not the first person to say this sort of thing,” Estrada replied. “Many of us have felt like you do right now, along the way.”
“So I should be happy others are defective too?”
“Misery does love company, but no. The point is you’re not alone.”
“How do I fill in the hole, Pastor?” Ruth asked plaintively.
“It sounds to me like you have a God-sized opening in your soul. Have you considered that?”
“I have,” Ruth said, her tears beginning to dry.
“I don’t mean to be indelicate, but I haven’t noticed yo
u in a while. Are you going to the shul instead?”
Ruth shook her head. “I haven’t been going anywhere lately. Just standing watch, handling my extra duties, eating, and sleeping.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a life when you put it like that.”
“No, I don’t suppose it does.”
“You’ve identified the problem, then,” Estrada prodded. “If you can see what you’re doing doesn’t work, then what should you do next?”
“I’m not sure,” Ruth replied.
“Right now, you’re doing the same thing over and over again, yes?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the definition of insanity, Ruth,” Estrada said with a grin. “You have to try something different.”
“Is that a God thing?”
“It could be. It could be many things. You could try changing your routine, talking with a therapist or attending services either here or at the shul. There might be some chemical-based solutions Doctor Tural could discuss with you.”
Ruth shook her head. “I don’t believe medicine will fix this. I think I have to somehow get me fixed inside.”
“Let me help.”
“How, Pastor?” Ruth said, shaking her head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but unless you’ve been in combat, I don’t think you can relate to what I feel.”
“TCMC, two tours. Six combat drops,” Estrada said.
“I’m so sorry,” Ruth replied. I’m good at sticking my foot in my mouth tonight.
“Don’t be fooled by the cross. I can still put Leaguers down.”
Ruth forced herself to smile. “Point taken, Pastor.”
“Tell you what, how about we schedule a session tomorrow afternoon after the first watch to discuss what’s going on with you?”
“I’d like that,” Ruth said.
“Good. 1600 CMT?”
“I’ll be here with bells on,” Ruth said, trying to inject some level of levity into her voice, but failing.
“See you then,” Estrada said as Ruth stood up to leave. “You’re not lost, whatever you’ve done, wherever you’ve been. Jesus died for our sins. Even the worst Leaguer, if he or she were to repent, can be saved.”
