28
A few days later, David stared at the tablet interface as he sat behind the desk in his day cabin. His finger hovered over the button to connect the vidlink. It was set to dial Caroline Hunter—Doris Hunter’s mother. He’d made many next-of-kin notifications over his career. Each was deeply personal, emotional, and downright painful to everyone involved. This was unique, however. He’d never before told someone’s loved ones they were dying before they passed.
As he pressed his finger to the on-screen interface, David felt shame and grief. Shame that he’d given the order in the first place to put the ship and his crew in extreme danger. Grief and guilt, because someone he respected and knew would go far lay dying in the medical bay because of his actions.
Several moments later, the screen came to life with an image of a middle-aged Caucasian woman with brown hair, colored by streaks of gray. “Hello, this is Caroline.” Her tone was quiet and reserved.
“Mrs. Hunter, I’m General David Cohen, CDF. Do you have a moment to speak with me?” He could almost see the wheels turning in her head.
“What can I…” Her voice trailed off, and she put her hand over her mouth. “Is Doris dead?”
The bluntness of the question punched David in his gut. His face scrunched up. “No ma’am, but it doesn’t look good.” That’s a crock, and you know it. “I wanted to make sure she had a chance to talk to you.” His voice trailed off before he forced a finish to the line. “Before the end.”
Caroline sucked in a breath, and tears welled up in her eyes. “Oh my God. My baby.” She started sobbing uncontrollably.
I wish I could console her somehow. Another side of David’s brain lashed him. You’re why her daughter is dying.
Before David could speak, another figure entered the camera’s field of view—a middle-aged male. “Who is this?” His voice betrayed his anger.
“General David Cohen, sir.” He forced military formality into his voice to avoid a show of emotion.
“Doris is dying, Jonah,” Caroline said before either of them could say more.
“I am so sorry,” David began. “She was exposed to a lethal dose of radiation during our last battle after rushing into a contaminated area to save the ship.” It sounds so sterile when I put it like that. Like a checkbox on a form.
“Why are you telling us like this?” Jonah practically shouted. “This is cruel… barbaric.”
David closed his eyes for a moment. “I wanted to give you both the chance to speak with her. We have a communication station set up in the room she’s in, but Doctor Tural and I felt it was best you both knew the situation ahead of time.”
While Jonah moved as if he was about to explode, his face reddening further by the second, his wife put her hands on his. “I understand, General. Please, we would love to talk to her.”
“Of course, I’ll transfer you both now. Your family is in my prayers, and I am so very sorry for your loss. Lieutenant Hunter was an outstanding officer, and it was a privilege to have her serve on this ship.”
“Will her death be worth it?” Jonah interjected before his wife could reply. “Will it, General?”
“I pray to God it was, sir. I pray to God all the loss of life we’ve endured, from our families to our friends, was worth the price. I hope we’re collectively worth the sacrifices made by all.” David’s face was somber, and it was all he could do not to break down himself. “I’ll transfer you down to the medical bay now.”
Before they could say anything, he pressed the button to move the receiving destination, and the screen went blank. David sat back in the chair while a battle raged in his mind. Part of him knew, knew that fighting the League was a cause worth dying for. Another part said it was all a sham, that the Terran Coalition was no better than anything else in the universe. Usually, after pasting the League, I’m, if not happy, at least relieved. Not today.
* * *
White House – Lawrence City
Canaan
January 3rd, 2463
Andrew MacIntosh steeled himself for a conversation with the commander-in-chief of the Terran Coalition, President Justin Spencer. He walked through the door to the Oval Office, flanked by the elite bodyguards of the Terran Coalition’s Protective Service. One remained with the President at all times. Today was no different. The door closed behind him as MacIntosh surveyed the room. It was empty except for Spencer and the bodyguard.
“Andrew! Thanks for coming over here on such short notice. Please, have a seat.” Spencer still had his trademark warm smile and gestured toward a pair of couches in the center of the room.
As MacIntosh made his way to the sofa and sat down, he couldn’t help but grin. “An order is an order, sir.”
“I wanted to make you aware of something before it becomes front-page news, so to speak.”
“Sir?”
“The League has made a formal complaint against us for the shipyard attack.”
MacIntosh’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “A complaint?”
“They’re calling it a war crime, General. Alleging that we destroyed unarmed civilian-manned shipyards.”
“That’s rich.” MacIntosh snorted and let out a derisive laugh. “Did I mention I’m the pope?”
“I’ve been informed through a back-channel that GNN will be running with the story. They supposedly have video evidence.”
“What, an AI-generated deepfake? Come on, sir, that’s insane. I’ve got the Lion of Judah’s logs. General Cohen allowed fifteen minutes for evacuation of the Trotsky, and her commander took him up on it.”
Spencer steepled his hands together. “The Peace Union is running with the story too. According to our ambassador on site, the Organization of Non-Aligned Worlds will pass a joint resolution against ‘CDF barbary’.”
“I don’t know what to say, sir, that doesn’t involve copious amounts of profanity.”
“Don’t think I wasn’t tempted,” Spencer replied darkly. “I still have seventeen days in office. We’re going to use that time as much as we can to push back on this load of bull, and ensure as much as we can, a just peace for the Terran Coalition.”
“Of course, sir. What can I do to help?”
“Go through the Lion’s logs with a fine-tooth comb, along with your staff. Build an airtight case that we committed no crimes,” Spencer replied as he stared at MacIntosh intently. “Keep your people on a tight leash. I don’t want any discussion in the media. No leaks.”
“Understood, sir.”
“I’ve called for a meeting with SecDef, and some civilian advisors here in a few minutes. I’d like you to stay for it and offer advice. We’re going to try to get in front of this before GNN, and the Peace Union sets the message.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll do what I can, but my forte is blowing up League ships. Not dealing with politicians and reporters.”
Spencer cracked a grin. “Well, for what it’s worth, I wish I was out there with you, and not where I am.”
The door opened, and a woman stuck her head in. “Mister President, they’re ready.”
“Show them in,” Spencer replied. “Okay. Here goes nothing.”
A moment later, a stream of people walked into the room, led by Secretary of Defense Dunleavy. Spencer’s chief of staff was also present, with a group of other civilians. It took them all a few minutes to find seats as greetings were exchanged, along with handshakes.
“Mister President,” Dunleavy began as he was barely into his seat. “What can we do for you, sir?”
“In short, we need to change the narrative, ladies and gentlemen,” Spencer replied as he made eye-contact with Dunleavy and the rest of them. “I’ve instructed General MacIntosh to lead the effort to validate the Lion’s logs and prove our side of the story. There’s two parts to this fight, though. One is direct evidence, and the other is based on emotion. We need to remind the people of the Terran Coalition who their heroes are… the men and women of the Coalition Defense Force.”
“With res
pect, sir,” one of the civilians said. “How do you plan to do that? The media’s going to demonize everyone involved.”
How indeed. Spencer had run it through his head for days. Even now, he wasn’t sure. But I need to try something. Anything. “I have an idea.” All eyes turned to him. “We’ll hold a large rally at the same time the fleet returns, and disembark them through the Lawrence City space terminal.”
Silence reigned for several seconds before MacIntosh spoke. “With respect, sir, I’m not sure about using the military as stage dressing. It seems to be, at the least, close to the line.”
“I could agree with you, General, if the election hadn’t come and gone. At this point, the only thing we’re doing is trying to boost civilian morale, and again, alter the course of the conversation being had about the shipyard assault. By God, it was a good thing!”
“We could hang up some banners, distribute signs to the crowd with messages like ‘Mission Accomplished,’” the chief of staff interjected.
MacIntosh groaned. “The fleet took significant causalities. I’d wager most of them don’t want to celebrate. They want to grieve the losses of friends, and in some cases, family.”
“Perhaps the banners are a bit much, but I like the idea of getting everyone to come together. We need to make sure it’s as diverse a crowd as possible, to counteract the division and strife we’ve seen the last year.” Spencer said the words but didn’t quite believe them. I’m not sure why we’re at each other’s throats. He used to think that humans, especially humans in the Terran Coalition, had evolved past petty hatreds. The events of the last few months proved otherwise to him, and the realization stung.
“Mister President, you’re the commander-in-chief. I think it’s a bad idea, but if you order me to do so, I’ll make the necessary arrangements,” Dunleavy stated.
Spencer set his jaw. “Then we’ll move forward. Remember—as many people, from as many walks of life as we can muster.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Carry on,” Spencer replied. As they filed out, he didn’t see one of the civilians in the back surreptitiously tapping away at his commlink. Nor did he close the meeting with the typical prayer. These things wouldn’t register with him for some time to come.
29
Standing watch as the fallen warriors were removed from the ship was a solemn ritual that had special significance for David. The first time he did it, thirty-five percent of his crew had died in battle the previous day. Years later, it still stung as much as it did the first time. They were his soldiers—men and women who served under his command. My job was to bring them home safe to their families. Today, he was joined by Calvin, Mancini, Kenneth Lowe, and General Hale. Each of them lost people under their command. Similar evolutions would be occurring on the Constantine class heavy cruisers, and the RNV Resit Kartal.
Although there was no band onboard, there was a single bagpiper, and an enormous honor guard made up of Marines from the Lion’s TCMC contingent. Everyone present wore immaculate dress uniforms with spit-shined shoes. David stood at the head of the cargo bay and the top of the ramp that descended onto the Canaan’s central military space station. As each casket went by on an anti-grav sled, draped with the flag of the Terran Coalition and escorted by members of the honor guard, he saluted smartly.
On and on, the caskets went by while the bagpiper played the stirring notes to “Amazing Grace” in the background. It was a seemingly never-ending procession of the dead. First off the ship were the active-duty soldiers assigned to the Lion of Judah. When it was time for the Marines to be carried off, Calvin appeared beside David, saluting each one.
Out of the corner of his eye, David saw tears fall down the tough Marine’s face. As much as that man tries to make it seem like nothing fazes him, I’ve known him long enough to realize it’s all an act. He feels as much or more than I do. His heart ached more as each casket passed. They were the ones we couldn’t save. As the procession continued, he reached out and squeezed Calvin’s shoulder between coffins. “It wasn’t your fault, Colonel. Your team did an incredible job.”
“Yes, they did, sir. But I’d do anything to be one of those men there, then have to tell another family their child isn’t coming home,” Calvin replied, his voice breaking with emotion.
Those words broke loose a torrent of built-up feeling inside of David. Tears slid down his face. Eventually, the pilots were carried off. Their honor guard was made up of the surviving members of the Lion’s and the Ark Royal’s embarked fighter wings.
Hale walked to his left side and saluted each coffin as it was removed from the ship.
The last few caskets to be removed held the remains of civilians, all members of the contractor team. For this purpose, David had allowed Kenneth Lowe to be present. Kenneth stood at rigid attention as they were carried off, while the military personnel continued to salute. As the last one slid down the ramp, the bagpiper ended his mournful tune.
“I pray to God that’s the last time I ever do this in my life,” Hale said quietly. “You probably disagree with me, General, but I’m glad this war is finally over.”
David found himself too emotional and broken to engage. “All I hope is that these people didn’t die in vain. I pray none of the millions who have given their lives in the last thirty years did.”
“Amen,” Calvin interjected. He’d dried his tears and was back to his typical cocky Marine exterior. “Now what’s this about a welcome home celebration in Lawrence City? I’m usually happy to see my wife.”
Hale chuckled politely. “I think I’m going to skip that one. I’m in no mood to celebrate anything.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have a choice. General MacIntosh conveyed to me that it was the President’s direct request I attend,” David began. “After that, I’m supposed to meet with him at the White House.”
“Maybe he’s going to ask you to go into politics,” Kenneth said from behind them.
David turned and shook his head. “Uh, no. Never. Not in a million years. If my services are no longer required in the CDF, I think it’s time for me to become a rabbi.”
“Permission to disembark, sir?” Hale asked.
“Granted, General.”
Hale brought to her hand to her brow crisply before she turned on her heel and marched off.
David was left quietly in his thoughts, staring at the retreating line of caskets slowly making their way into the space station.
* * *
It was something of a whiplash for David to immediately go from rendering honors to the dead and overseeing their removal from the Lion of Judah, to disembarking along with many of the senior officers and thousands of enlisted personnel. He was silent the entire trip down from Canaan’s main military space station to the Lawrence City space terminal. Lost in his thoughts, he pondered the cost and the losses of the previous month. Around him, everyone wore service “A” uniforms, which were similar in form and function to a business suit, except the most junior of enlisted personnel. They wore a traditional sailor suit in navy blue, commonly known as a “crackerjack,” along with a white brimless hat as a cover.
A single glance confirmed all his ribbons and pins were in the right place. David stared as the mammoth terminal building, with its acres of shuttle bays, came into focus. As the transport craft came to a stop, Calvin came up beside him.
“Good to go, sir?”
“Yeah,” David replied, his voice quiet.
“Still thinking about those caskets?”
David nodded wordlessly.
“Well, sir, we gave a lot better than we got,” Calvin said.
“I suppose we did, Colonel. Still, over a thousand dead on my ship? I have to wonder if I made the wrong call somewhere.”
Calvin got in front of David and stared at him intently. “Let’s get something straight, sir. You made the right calls all the way through. Those Leaguer bastards got what was coming for them, and maybe we did enough to keep the idiots from the Peace Union from throwi
ng everything we’ve bled for away.”
A smile appeared at the tough Marine’s gusto, and David slapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Cal.”
“Anytime, sir. Now, ready to meet our adoring fans?”
David couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Don’t you have your wife for that?”
“Well, yeah, but come on… Marine Corps uniforms always get the ladies looking at you.”
Several others in earshot heard him and laughed, including Ruth, who similarly rolled her eyes. “I’ll remember not to tell your wife about that,” she called out.
The ramp in the back opened and slid down. They were parked next to a few dozen other shuttles, all of which were filled with CDF personnel. A stream of humanity, along with a few Saurians, exited the various craft and made their way toward the nearest passenger concourse. As David cleared the arrival passageway and strode into the terminal, there was a thunderous shout from the people assembled to greet them. Banners held high proclaimed “Welcome Home!” and “Mission Accomplished!” while the crowd cheered.
It was something else. David found himself shocked as the elation continued. But it was as if there was a chill in the room. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, much as they did right before a battle. A glance around the room only confirmed that, indeed, everyone was having a great time. Families reunited with their loved ones with hugs and kisses, while children jumped into their parents’ waiting arms.
“Not bad. We should get Spencer to do this more often,” Calvin commented from David’s right side. “An old Marine could get used to it.”
“Can you imagine what it would be like if we finally won?” David mused, his voice fairly quiet compared to the tumult around them. “The celebration would go on for weeks.”
They continued to make their way through the terminal, and after a good fifteen minutes, ended up in the massive primary concourse. It was where all travelers to Lawrence City exited the facility. As far as the eye could see, people waved banners and cheered wildly. David finally started to relax and allowed some of the happiness around him to seep into his soul, as sad as he was at the losses the Lion suffered.
Run the Gauntlet: Echoes of War Book Six Page 28
