by Daniel Gibbs
Saurez nodded. “It’s taking a lot of transmission power to keep this link going, so I won’t keep you further, Colonel. Again, the entire Terran Coalition is in your debt. We thank you and your crew. Bravo Zulu.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Safe journey, and Godspeed on your way home.”
The image blinked off, leaving Tehrani to stare at the black screen. She closed her eyes, contemplating what to do next. My soldiers aren’t timid, and neither are they weak. They deserve the truth—especially the ones who hail from Eire.
After trying to knock out some of the never-ending paperwork associated with keeping the ship going, Tehrani thought back to her conversation with Saurez. She touched the intercom on her desk. “Lieutenant Singh, this is Colonel Tehrani.”
“Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?” Singh’s voice crackled on the speaker.
“Tie me into 1MC.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am. You’re live.”
She sucked in a breath. “Attention, all hands. This is your commanding officer, Colonel Tehrani. Command has been apprised of our success in the strike on Sol and its cost. Unfortunately, while we’ve been out of communications range for the past two months, the League expanded its campaign against our homes. The world of Eire has fallen and is now occupied by the enemy.
“When we get home, the Zvika Greengold and the rest of Battlegroup Z will be treated to a hero’s welcome. It will likely strike many of you as discordant, as it does me. But the population needs a beacon of hope in the darkness. So it falls to us to be that beacon, regardless of what we think or feel. Rest assured, as soon as our carrier is back in fighting shape, the Zvika Greengold will be back at the front lines, doing its part. Semper tempus. Godspeed, and carry on. Tehrani out.”
The connection clicked off, and she leaned back in her chair, pride filling her soul at her crew’s performance. What does the XO like to say? The truth will set you free. Tehrani went back to paperwork with renewed vigor.
Flames licked around Justin’s feet in the cockpit of his Sabre. He felt searing heat and smelled burnt flesh. As screams erupted from his throat, he woke with a start.
Breathing rapidly, he took a few seconds to realize he was in his stateroom and safe. His forehead and the rest of his body were covered in sweat.
Justin pushed the covers aside and stood. What is happening to me? He and everyone else on the Zvika Greengold should be jubilant. They’d hit the League where it hurt, and while they’d taken significant losses, the mission had gone far better than it could have. But his nightmares had progressed to the point that he was unable to sleep. He’d shied away from seeing the ship’s doctor for fear of being grounded or sent for a psych exam.
This is no way to live. A glance at a digital clock told Justin it was nearly 0200 hours. He decided to head down to the officers’ mess and get some tea. It seemed to help on some nights, and after a week without rest, something had to give.
Even though a quarter of the crew was on duty—the twenty-four-hours-a-day minimum staffing level—Justin encountered virtually no one else on his way to the nearest mess hall. He poked his head through the hatch, expecting to find at least a few people, but no one was there. Not even the steward was around.
After retrieving a mug and hot water, Justin took a seat by one of the windows and stared out into the blackness of space as the tea steeped. It went on and on, seemingly into infinity. Briefly pondering the universe’s metaphysical aspects, he wondered if the essence, or what some would call the soul, of people who died in the void stayed there. Does it matter? My friends are still dead. Bitterness threatened to consume every nook and cranny of Justin’s mind. All the sacrifices made, yet the League pressed on like an unstoppable monster that absorbed whatever the holovid heroes threw at it. But we still won. Let the Leaguers crow about how mighty their empire is. One little escort carrier crashed the party and shot up space installations all over Sol.
“Mind if I join you?” Feldstein asked from behind him.
Justin nearly jumped out of his skin. The tea sloshed as he whipped around, spilling on his shoes and pants. “Good grief. You about gave me a heart attack.”
She turned red. “I’m sorry. I thought you would’ve heard me with all the noise of making coffee.”
“No. I was thinking.” Justin patted the seat next to him. “Looking at the stars is good for that.”
“I know. For a few months, I served on a ship with an observation deck. It was so neat to project the stars and planets out and look at them through a telescope.” Feldstein smiled as she sat. “Couldn’t sleep either, eh?”
Justin shook his head. “I haven’t slept right since we jumped out of Sol.”
“That makes two of us.” She brushed a wisp of hair out of her face. “Honestly, I don’t think anyone is sleeping well. Part of me wishes the colonel hadn’t told us about the fall of Eire.”
“And when we got home and found out, it would’ve been even worse.” He gulped. “I know I’m supposed to be strong enough for all of us…”
Silence broke out between them, with only the soft mechanical whirring of the ventilation system audible.
“Have you talked to someone?”
“Who?”
“Friends, a doctor, the chaplain? There’s always me, you know.”
“No one wants to hear about my problems.”
“Justin, do you think you’re the only person with nightmares? I close my eyes, and I can visualize Martin’s fighter going into the side of that League ship.” A tear, followed quickly by more, fell down her face. “We’re only alive today because of his sacrifice.”
“I know that.” Justin set his jaw. “You know what bothers me more? When I close my eyes, I don’t see him. I see the ones of us still alive dying instead.”
“That’s war.”
“So we should just accept it? Embrace it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
He turned away from her and looked back into the void. “You know, I don’t bother making friends with the new pilots, especially the ones with no combat experience.” His words hung over the room, an admission that neither of them wanted to hear.
“Why?” Feldstein asked softly.
“Because they’re the least likely to survive. Those of us who’ve made it for nine months will probably make it a while longer, until our number is up too.” Anger welled up in Justin, from a source he couldn’t explain. He suddenly wanted to punch the wall with all his might. “Who cares? We’re all going to die in this war.”
Again, silence followed. Seconds passed, then a minute.
Feldstein put her hand on top of his. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”
Justin stared at her hand like he was in a trance before grasping it with his. The anger melted away into anguish, and tears began to fall from his eyes. It only took seconds for him to start sobbing. Months of pain and worry that he’d bottled up inside flowed out, and he ended up embracing Feldstein tightly.
Once the tears had mostly stopped, she rested her forehead on his. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Staring into her eyes, Justin felt something akin to a rush of electricity go through him. He realized how close she was and allowed himself to consider what it would be like to kiss her. The moment he opened the door mentally, desire flowed through him. It swept aside all inhibitions and threatened to sweep him right along with it.
Feldstein touched his face. “It will. I promise. We’re going to get through this together and go home.”
As Justin stared into her eyes, a battle raged inside of his mind. No one would have to know. At the rate things are going, we’ll be dead in six months, anyway. But another voice fired back, No, it would be wrong. You know it’s wrong. You gave an oath to love Michelle and to treat her with honor and respect. How would you feel if she did this to you? The circumstances don’t matter. It’s wrong, and it’ll always be wrong.
Justin pulled away as h
e made up his mind. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I can’t do this.”
“What?”
“What we were about to do.”
Feldstein glanced out the window before locking her eyes with his again. “Would it be so bad to feel connected to another person for a few minutes?”
“Dvora, we’re both married. I thought happily too.”
Tears began to fall down her face. “Maybe we are.” She rubbed her eyes, trying to wipe the tears away. “I go to bed every night, wondering if I’ll wake up again. Or worse, if I’ll come to floating in space and dying a horrible death in my last few seconds.” Feldstein twisted her mouth. “I don’t want to die alone.”
Justin shivered and shook his head. “I understand how you feel, because I have the same nightmares and fears.”
She shrank back. “You think less of me now.”
“Not at all. Dvora, you’re an incredible person, and under different circumstances, I’d have courted you quite hard.” He forced a smile to his face. “But it would be wrong. I know that I couldn’t live with it, and I don’t think you could either.”
“We live with killing people every day.” The words came out hollow, almost without life force behind them.
“Yeah, and how’s that working out for us? Think about how much more broken we’ll be inside if we do something we both know is wrong.”
Feldstein crossed her arms. “For a guy who adamantly claims he’s not religious, you sure do have a moral code, there, Justin.”
“You don’t have to be religious to know right from wrong.”
She stared at him, the seconds ticking away. “Do you want me to transfer out of the Red Tails?”
“Why would I want that? I hope we’re still friends, because there’s no one else I’d rather have watching my back out there. You’ve saved my life twice, Dvora.”
“Yeah, but—”
“We both had a moment of weakness.” Justin touched her hand. “I came very close to kissing you.”
“You did?” Feldstein cracked a small smile.
“Yes.” Justin tried to collect his thoughts. “What’s that theory about there being different universes for every choice we’ve ever had?”
“Uh, physics isn’t my strong point,” she replied with a chuckle.
“Well, I forget the name, but it’s one of the leading theories of how the universe was created.”
“What’s that got to do with us?”
Justin smiled sadly. “Because if it’s accurate, somewhere out there, maybe we met each other at the right time, and everything worked out.”
“That’s a… nice notion. But not applicable to the here and now.”
“Yeah. We’re going to have to be careful going forward. Above all, we can’t be alone together.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t trust myself, knowing I have a weakness toward you.” At her frown, Justin pressed on. “That’s not because of you. It’s me.”
“This is going to be weird, isn’t it?”
“Probably for a while,” he admitted. “But in time, we’ll get back to what we were—good friends and nothing more.”
“Best friends,” Feldstein corrected. “I thought of you as my best friend. I hope I still can.”
“One day at a time.” He finished his tea. “We should probably go. On duty in four hours.”
“Are we okay?”
“We’ll be okay.” Justin stood. “Let’s try to put this behind us and not speak of it again.” It would be far more complicated than it sounded.
Feldstein nodded. “I’m going to hang out here for a while and enjoy my coffee.” She again wiped her eyes. The tears had stopped, but her face was still puffy and red. “Good night, Justin.”
“Good night, Dvora.”
Justin turned and walked out of the mess, head spinning. As he made his way back to his stateroom, Justin pondered his actions. It had felt good to release some of the emotion that had built up. However, that release was overshadowed by the shame he felt at coming close to dishonoring his commitment to his wife and daughter. Am I a good person? What’s wrong with me? The questions plagued him as he climbed into bed and tried in vain to sleep.
At 0500, Justin’s alarm blared, waking him from the restless sleep he’d drifted into an hour before. He sat on the side of the bed, trying to clear his mind. At least I didn’t wake up in the middle of my Sabre exploding again.
The previous night’s events flooded back into his brain as he started his morning routine like an automaton. After he pulled on his workout clothes, Justin made his way to the gym. He felt simultaneously angry and ashamed. Instead of using the exercise bike and stair climber like he usually did, Justin settled in front of one of the punching bags.
Blow after blow, Justin took out his anger and frustration on the fifty-pound leather sack. He uttered a guttural roar and kicked the bag so hard that it almost slid out of its holder. Before it could swing out too far, Justin delivered another kick followed by a series of jabs.
“Hey, cool it off over there,” someone called.
Justin turned to see Major Nishimura, the Marine commander. “Just exercising, sir.”
Nishimura trotted up and stared at him. “Right, and I’m the pope. I know what anger release looks like, Captain.”
Justin realized they were alone. He hadn’t been paying attention when he walked in, but he was glad no one else had seen him. “Yeah.”
“Why don’t you finish your program and grab a shower, and we’ll get breakfast together in the Marine mess.”
“It’s okay, sir. I should probably head out, anyway. I’m going to need more than one cup of coffee before I’m ready for duty.” Justin stepped away from the punching bag.
“Not so fast. I wasn’t asking, Captain. That’s an order. We’re having breakfast in the Marine mess at oh seven hundred.”
A Marine couldn’t order a fleet pilot to do anything, regardless of rank, but Justin bit his comment off before it came out. “Uh, yes, sir.”
“Good. Finish your routine, and I’ll see you in a bit. Oh, and take it easy on the equipment. It’s as old as I am.” He stalked off toward the group shower.
Justin completed a workout set that included weights and twenty minutes of treadmill time. It took forty-five minutes and left him drenched in sweat. By the time he hit the showers and changed into his flight jumpsuit, it was 0650, which forced him to almost run to the mess hall. He hurried through the hatch with two minutes to spare and no visible sweat marks. It wouldn’t do for the Marines to see me unkempt.
“Over here, Spencer,” Nishimura called out, waving him over to a table near the windows with a prime view of the void.
As he made his way through the lightly trafficked area—the Zvika Greengold didn’t have many Marine officers—Justin took in the square-jawed men and women around him. Unlike regular line CDF soldiers, the Marines maintained far higher personal grooming standards. I don’t think I would’ve survived TCMC bootcamp. He came to a stop next to the seated major. “Captain Justin Spencer reports as ordered, sir.”
“Ha-ha. Very funny,” Nishimura quirked an eyebrow and gestured to the empty chair. “Have a seat. I took the liberty of ordering you a full breakfast. Bacon, eggs, toast, and oatmeal.”
Justin slid into the chair, eyes widening. “You’ve still got those? We ran out of bacon and eggs weeks ago.”
Nishimura’s eyes twinkled. “Marine quartermasters are wily beasts. I wouldn’t be surprised if they hadn’t snuck a few chickens aboard.”
“I’m sorry I was beating up the equipment, Major. It’s been a rough few months.”
“You made that obvious.” Nishimura took a sip of coffee. “My only reason for asking you here is to lend an ear. I know from personal experience how hard it is to open up to those around me, and combat is a difficult thing.” He shrugged. “Frankly, shooting someone up close and personal is even harder than blowing their fighter or bomber out of the void. At least you don’t have to see them d
ie.”
His words stung a bit, and Justin felt rebuked, perhaps not entirely unfairly. “Major, it may surprise you to learn this, but I’ve shot and killed an enemy soldier. When I stole the fighter from that League cruiser.” He stared off into the distance. “So I’m quite familiar with the feeling of watching someone die.”
“Ah. I didn’t realize.” Nishimura sucked in a breath. “I suppose the point I’m trying to make is you’re not alone.”
“I feel alone.” The words tumbled out of Justin’s mouth before he could stop them. “Utterly and completely alone.”
Before more could be said, a mess steward appeared and dropped off two plates heaped with food. Once the man had withdrawn, Nishimura bowed his head and put his hands together. “Dear Lord, we thank you for this meal we are about to receive. Bless it to us in Jesus’s name. Amen.”
Justin picked up his fork and speared one of the eggs before using a piece of toast to soak up the yolk. He bit into it and smiled. “That tastes awesome, Major.” After chewing and swallowing, he said, “I don’t recall you praying over the food the last time we ate together.”
“Is that your way of asking, ‘What changed?’”
“Yeah.” Justin frowned. “I’ve noticed a lot of my friends seemingly retreating into their religious beliefs over the last few months.”
“I can’t speak for them, but as for me…”Nishimura set his fork down, as if what he was about to say required full concentration. “On the freighter we captured, I met a woman who, despite living under a communist dictatorship, kept her faith. Incredibly, in talking to her, I discovered her entire family was Christian, and they hid it from the authorities. If found out, all faced reeducation camps, torture, or death.”
“How do you know she was telling the truth?” The idea seemed foreign to Justin. Why would someone risk everything over faith or a belief that couldn’t be proven?
“Spencer, as God is my witness, everything that came out of her mouth was the gospel truth.” Nishimura pursed his lips and shook his head. “It’s made me do some hard introspection for the last few weeks. You’re looking at a man who didn’t get to church much and felt like having to get up early on Sunday was an imposition on his rest time. I could sit here and list dozens of ways I haven’t lived up to or shown what I believe through my actions.”
