“Discretion is the better part of valor, I think, folks.”
All eyes turned toward Kenneth.
“We need to ditch our current ship and take something less conspicuous into Coalition space. Spencer lives on New Washington, right?”
“Quite right, old chap.” Sinclair stroked his chin. “I’ve got a few assets left. I’ll see about getting one of—”
“No.” David’s voice was forceful. “Anyone you ran is compromised and being watched. We need a third party.”
“Captain Henry,” Kenneth interjected.
“Somehow I doubt James Henry wants anything to do with the CDF or us,” David replied quietly. “I know he’s a friend, Kenneth, and I respect the man, but the last time I saw him…” He shook his head. “I know what being broken looks like, because I’ve been there.”
Kenneth cocked his head toward David. “With respect, it wouldn’t hurt to ask, sir.”
“No, it wouldn’t.” Sinclair held up a hand. “And if he’s not willing to, he might put us onto another trader who would. No questions asked, especially if we can pay in credit chips as opposed to bank transfers.”
This is a long shot. Then again, we’re out of options. “Okay. Who wants to make the call?” David asked.
“I’ll do it, sir,” Kenneth said. “We go way back.”
“Alright, then. We’ve got another week until we get back to Terran Coalition space, so go get some rack time. I’ll see everyone at 0730 for repair assignments tomorrow morning.” David stood and started to walk toward the door to the cramped medical bay as the rest got up as well.
Kenneth cleared his throat. “General, could I speak with you a moment, privately?”
“Of course.”
Everyone else cleared out, leaving the two men alone. David stared down at the bed. “What can I do for you?”
“If it comes down to it, I need you to back me up that Billings was here under duress. He’s only here to make sure I didn’t get myself killed.” Kenneth’s voice trailed off, and he gestured in the air. “Probably the only reason I’m still here. Please, it's important. He’s a good man and a single father. His kids need him.”
One thing David understood was the need of a leader to safeguard those he commanded. He squeezed Kenneth’s shoulder. “No problem. I’ll make sure that’s the party line.” Again, he turned to go but stopped. “Trying to change a circuit board in a live Lawrence drive controller takes some balls. Thanks for saving our hides.”
“All part of the service.” Kenneth cracked a grin. “I think I’m getting too old for this crap.”
“You and me both.”
“Think Spencer can scare the Terran Coalition into doing something about the League, sir?”
David snorted. “Who knows. I don’t recognize the country I’ve spent my entire adult life defending. I guess we’ll find out.” He made eye contact with Kenneth. “But, you know what? Even if they don’t, we can hold our heads up high because we did everything that could be done.”
“Cold comfort if the League invades our homes.”
The quiet observation was one David couldn’t escape and didn’t want to ponder. “Indeed, Mister Lowe. Get some rest. You’ll need it, because I want all hands on deck tomorrow at oh dark thirty.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be there.”
As he took a step forward, David decided to do one more thing. “Kenneth,” he began to get the other man’s attention. Then he brought his hand to his brow. “Bravo Zulu.” The words were from the signal flags that used to mean “Well done.”
Kenneth slowly brought his right arm up and returned the salute. “Thank you, sir.”
“Now, go to sleep.” Without another word, David strode out of the medical bay. Unlike the Lion of Judah, where walking between the bridge and his stateroom in officer country would take fifteen minutes, the Growler class stealth raiders were tiny. It barely took him a minute to reach one of two individual cabins on the boat, marked with “Commanding Officer” on the hatch. He closed the door behind him and pulled on the chair that folded out from the wall. With a thud, David collapsed into it. None of us should be alive.
He removed his black-brimmed hat and reached for his tablet, pulling up the Torah as he did. What sort of hypocrite am I to wear the garb of a rabbi while killing God’s creations? David flipped through the electronic pages, settling on one of the Psalms of lamentation. He opened up his space bag and removed his yarmulke and tallit gadol, before putting them on his head and around the shoulders respectively. He stood and started rocking as he prayed. “In You, Lord my God, I put my trust. I trust in You; do not let me be put to shame, nor let my enemies triumph over me. May integrity and uprightness protect me, because my hope, Lord, is in You.” Over the next few minutes, he completed the evening prayers and recited the Shema. Finally, David stripped off his clothing and collapsed into the bunk, searching for rest. It did not come.
* * *
System A3-DH8 – Lawrence Limit
Terran Coalition Border Zone
July 5th, 2463
It had taken a couple of days of Kenneth working his magic to track down James Henry. David hadn’t been surprised when the independent captain declined to pick them up. He was shocked, however, when Henry promised a friend would pick them up and get them to New Washington—free of charge. And when David had insisted on payment, Henry told him to donate it to the Little Sisters of Divine Recompense in his name. Perhaps with his exoneration, the captain has dealt with some of his distaste for the Terran Coalition.
“Did Henry say who we were meeting?” Sinclair asked as he adjusted a hidden holster under his jacket.
“No.” David flashed something approaching a smile. “Same answer as ten minutes ago.”
The spy kept quiet.
They were both in the back of the Virginia’s lone shuttle. Alon was in the cockpit, flying them toward a rendezvous with an independent freighter. Proper intelligence authentication codes were exchanged before the craft launched. David grinned to himself. Probably a CIS ship running off the books. Little more was said until the docking collar latched on to the vessel with a loud thud.
The side airlock opened, and a woman strode in. She had brown hair, paired with bronze skin, and flashed a smile. “Miri Gaon, commanding the Venture Star, at your service, gentlemen.” Her eyes flickered to David, then to Sinclair. “Colonel… at the risk of making a joke, since when does intelligence have a rabbi on the payroll?”
“You two know each other?” David asked in surprise.
“Ms. Gaon was one of our top operatives,” Sinclair replied. He extended his hand out to her and shook hers warmly. “It has been too long. It appears life as an independent spacer suits you.”
“HaShem guided me to where I was needed.” She offered a simple smile in return as her eyes focused on David. “I recognize you from somewhere, but I can’t place it.”
“Brigadier General David Cohen, retired.”
“Ah.” Gaon broke into a grin. “Welcome, then. I understand you both need a trip to New Washington, no muss, no fuss… and absolutely no paperwork?”
Sinclair chuckled and picked up a small piece of luggage. “Not unless you want to spend the rest of your life on Lambert’s Lament. By now, Jezebel Rhodes,” he made a dirty face as he said the name, “has every law enforcement agency in the Terran Coalition looking for us.”
Gaon held up a hand. “Anyone who’s an enemy of Rhodes is a friend of mine. This way, gentlemen. We’ll get you settled in and fire up the Lawrence drive.”
“Thank you,” David replied. He followed her into the airlock and resolved to stay in whatever quarters he was assigned until they made it to New Washington. The whiplash of going from religious studies and back to active combat affected him more than he cared to admit. I need time to think and pray. For the next twenty-four hours, he did just that.
11
As David stepped off the Venture Star with Sinclair in tow, he felt anxiety run through him. It wasn’t
a normal emotion to feel when walking through the spaceport of a safe core world in the Terran Coalition. I’m not usually a fugitive from justice either. In the back of his mind, he pondered what the repercussions would be to his relationship with Angie, but they were pushed down to focus on the task at hand. He glanced at Sinclair. “Are you sure these jammers will work? There’s facial recognition tech everywhere… even the stupid ad displays have it.”
The ever chipper spy grinned. “While I can guarantee nothing except the sun will set this evening, I’m pretty confident in the technology. It's saved my life countless times on official missions. Now, stay calm, focused, and let’s find a helicar.”
Much as Sinclair predicted, there were no incidents as they made their way through the busy terminal and out to the stand of dozens of helicars waiting to take their passengers to points across New Washington. David climbed into the first one in line, quickly followed by Sinclair, and the automated machine lifted off into the sky. Little was said as it skimmed over the busy city, past the high-rise office buildings, and out into the rural areas a hundred kilometers out. The helicar deposited them just outside the security fence, along an access road that led to President Spencer’s compound. I pray to God he’s here. David reached out and pressed a button on the gate control that he assumed was an intercom.
“Yes?” A voice emanated from a hidden speaker.
“General David Cohen and Colonel Robert Sinclair to see President Spencer.” He said it like they were out for a stroll, without a care in the world.
The gate swung open. “Come in.”
David glanced at Sinclair. “After you, good sir.”
“Quite right, old chap.” The other man strode through the open decorative gate and down an earthen lane, lined with trees on either side.
The air was crisp and fresh, with no trace of industrial smells. It reminded David of untouched and pristine border planets he’d visited over his career. As they walked toward a mansion in the distance, he girded himself mentally for what was to come. It was a moment of truth that would probably result in him spending the rest of his life in prison. Maybe I’ll get a cell next to Erhart. Why didn’t I just stay home and enjoy my peaceful life?
A group of four men and two women in black suits stood outside of the large main house in the wraparound circular driveway. One held up his hand. “Halt. Show us your hands. Now.” The tone was direct, and it brooked no resistance.
Both David and Sinclair held up their hands. One of the women stepped forward and patted them down. She glanced back at the leader. “They’re clean, sir.”
“Follow us,” the man announced as he turned on his heel.
The group of six melted into a circle around David and Sinclair. They walked through the front door, winding their way through the magnificent home. David found himself marveling at the artwork that hung from the walls, especially the works he recognized as being from Earth. I guess being a former president has its privileges. It took a few minutes to reach their destination: a large sunroom along the back of the mansion, with wide bay windows overlooking the grassy hillsides.
Spencer was standing by an easel, paintbrush in hand. He glanced at the group. “Ah. I see my guests have arrived. That’ll be all, Bill.”
“But, Mr. President—”
“Bill,” Spencer replied as he held up his hand. “These two men have veins that flow with their love of the Terran Coalition. They’d no sooner hurt me than Chairman Pallis would go on holovision and announce he’s converted to Christianity.” He chuckled. “What we need to discuss I’m certain is on a strictly on a need-to-know basis. Now, excuse us.”
“Yes, sir,” the leader of the guards ground out. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the rest of them. They exited through the door by which everyone had arrived.
As soon as the door closed, Spencer set his paint board down on a table and took a few steps toward David and Sinclair. He extended his arm. “Gentlemen, regardless of the circumstance, I’m glad you’re in one piece, and it’s good to see you.”
David took the outstretched hand and shook it firmly. “Thank you, sir. I apologize for showing up like this. I’m sure it was a shock, and I don’t want to get you in any trouble, with Rhodes saying she wants a truth commission to expose your war crimes, after all.”
“If I were less of a gentleman, I might suggest Vice President Rhodes do something anatomically impossible,” Spencer replied as his cheeks reddened. “Suffice it to say, I could care less what she wants to do. Now I’m going to assume there’s a legitimate reason why you two stole billions of credits worth of CDF property and nearly started a war. It’s all over the holonews channels… the CSV Virginia fired on and destroyed multiple League cargo ships.”
“Oh, the bullocks,” Sinclair started, then laughed. “Bloody Leaguers.”
“Long story short, the League has almost two thousand warships at Unity.” David stared into Spencer’s eyes. “I have the scans from the Virginia’s sensor arrays to prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt. As for the League ships we blew up, we got a few Cobra class destroyers before we jumped out. Just so we’re clear, they fired first.”
Spencer shook his head for a moment. “I knew they were up to something. I don’t suppose you brought proof?”
With a grin, David pulled out a small data chip from his pants. “I figured you’d want to see it.”
Spencer gestured toward the interior of the house and started walking. They followed, and for the next hour, walked the former president through the sensor log data, sequence of events at Unity, and the technical specifications of the EMP field—what little Ruth had been able to glean from her sensor sweeps. At the end, his eyes flickered between David and Sinclair. “You’ve sold me, gentlemen. What I can’t figure out is why this wasn’t a sanctioned operation.”
“Because our government shut down my repeated attempts to run it on the books, sir,” Sinclair replied. “I even got an audience with the gov himself. Told me to mind my own business. Bullocks, sir. I knew they were up to something.” He crossed his arms in front of him. “Cohen thinks you can put this info in the hands of the right people. Make the Terran Coalition take notice.”
“Yes,” Spencer began, then bit down on his lip. “We could take it to the media… but more infighting isn’t what we need.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “This is huge. It's going to shake us to the core of our collective being. Better to rip the bandage off.” His eyes settled on David, and he grinned. “How do you feel about making a visit to Congress?”
“Uh, politics isn’t my thing, sir.”
“The president pro tem of the Coalition Senate, Nejla Sadik, is a very dear friend. I’ll have her put us before a joint session of Congress, and I’ll let word leak to Fuentes what I’m up to.”
“Why?” David’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. Why would we want that weak fool in the same building?
“Because Fuentes is the President. It’ll be his call on what to do, and if he loses congressional support—trust me, we’ll all see it in their faces—he might just do the right thing.”
“If that’s what you think is best, sir, I’m happy to go along.”
Spencer nodded thoughtfully and looked back into the house. “I’ve got a secure communication system… one of the perks of being the former president. You two wait in the atrium, and I’ll make a couple of calls.”
“Yes, sir,” David replied. “Thank you, sir.” As he and Sinclair walked away, he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next. Dread ran through him that the only outcome was a return to open warfare. Or a prison cell for me. It came down to knowing they should’ve finished the job when the boot of the CDF’s and RSN’s combined fleet was on the League’s throat. Who are you kidding, David? One doesn’t park thousands of warships at a forward staging area as a show of force… that’s an invasion fleet.
* * *
Justin Spencer wasn’t a man easily given to fear. As he sat down at his desk and activated the secure
communication uplink afforded him, he found himself terrified for the continued existence of the Terran Coalition, despite his calm exterior. Two thousand ships… without our allies, the League could romp all the way to Canaan and probably take her. The thought was enough to make his blood run cold, and at the same time, boil with rage. I can’t give in to the impulse to lay the blame solely at Fuentes' feet and go after him politically. It wasn’t lost on him that the League’s disinformation masters probably hoped that would happen. With the Terran Coalition even more divided than they already were, defeat would be inevitable. Spencer resolved to rise to the occasion and deal with the politics afterward. He pressed the button to connect the call he’d lined up.
The screen brightened, and an image of a middle-aged woman appeared. Her dark complexion contrasted against the pink Tṻrban pinned neatly under her black dress. “Justin! This is an unexpected surprise.”
He flashed a smile. “Nejla, I apologize for showing up out the blue.”
“You never vidlink, you never write.” She made a tisk-tisk-tisk sound. “One might think once you didn’t need us anymore politically…”
“No.” Spencer frowned. “Nothing like that. You know my position. There’s one President at a time, and it would be improper for me to involve myself in matters of state.”
Sadik made a face. “Near communism, politically-driven investigations, and pogroms are prohibited by the constitution. I don’t see that slowing our esteemed Vice President down.”
“As much as I detest Rhodes, this isn’t about her.” Spencer paused. “Can you go secure for me?”
“Yes. One moment.” There was a rustling in the background, and Sadik briefly disappeared from the screen. “I had to plug in my encryption unit. I’m on ultra-violet sequence eight.”
Spencer tapped at a similar device he’d plugged into his tablet. “Okay, we’re good.” Over the next few minutes, he brought her up to speed on what Cohen and Sinclair had shown him. Included was a visual demonstration of the sensor logs. When he’d finished, he stared into the camera on his tablet. “It goes without saying—”
Finish the Fight: Echoes of War Book Seven Page 9
