Finish the Fight: Echoes of War Book Seven

by Gibbs, Daniel

  “I am, your Honor.”

  Stavros held out the Bible, and Spencer rested his right hand on top of it. “Do you, Justin Spencer, solemnly swear that you will faithfully execute the Office of the President of the Terran Coalition, and will, to the best of your ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the Terran Coalition?”

  Tears formed in Spencer's eyes as he stared at the Bible. “I do.” He removed his hand, leaned down, and kissed the top of the leather-bound holy book. “So help me, God.”

  “Let the record reflect that Justin Spencer is now the President of the Terran Coalition,” Stavros announced as he shook both men’s hands and shuffled off down the steps.

  “Edwardo, come here,” Spencer whispered, and put his arm around the other man, guiding him to the podium. “My first act will be to declare a state of emergency within our nation. Effective immediately, all military personnel are recalled, leave is canceled, and if you can walk, you can fight. Until we ascertain what the League is doing, the Terran Coalition is running to a war footing.” His eyes swept the gallery, finding it full of uncertain faces. “Together, we will face this threat. We will defend our homes, no matter the cost. Let there be no mistake; citizens of all faiths, political parties, and ideologies stand together.” I suppose I can fake it till we make it, as they say.

  Fuente’s leaned into the microphone. “I wholeheartedly support President Spencer’s actions, and call on all members of the Peace Union to support the government in any way possible.”

  “Rather than take more time here delivering a speech, I’m going to proceed with all haste to the White House and meet with the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Vice President Fuentes, and our cabinet. ” Spencer glanced in David’s direction as a wave of applause broke out. To his ears, it seemed more polite than anything. “One last thing. Brigadier General David Cohen, Colonel Robert Sinclair, and everyone else that participated in bringing this intelligence to our attention are hereby pardoned and returned to active duty.” He looked around the chamber once more. “May God continue to bless and defend the Terran Coalition, and may God bless you all.”

  12

  Walking alongside Spencer and Fuentes through the handcrafted wooden doors to the White House made David feel out of place. He couldn’t quite put a finger on it; perhaps it was his religious dress or full-on beard, or maybe he wasn’t ready to be a soldier again. But the President had asked him to join them, and one didn’t refuse that sort of invitation. As soon as they’d cleared the main foyer, an aide in a sharp business suit trotted up.

  “Sirs, they’re ready for us in the situation room.”

  “After you,” Fuentes said as he gestured to the left.

  David sensed a bit of tension or uneasiness between the two politicians. Makes sense; a week ago, they practically hated each other. He kept his mouth shut as they walked through the hallways, past offices, and staffers, and finally arrived at the large conference room. Dozens of people were already there, including Barton and MacIntosh. David found himself hoping one of Spencer’s first acts would be to fire Barton and replace him with someone—anyone else. Hopefully, not another coward.

  “No time for formalities today, everyone. Please take a seat,” Spencer called out as he quickly made his way to the chair at the head of the table. “General Barton, CDF fleet readiness… where are we at?”

  “Sir, before we begin, I want to urge caution. The buildup of League forces is alarming, yes, but there could be a benign explanation,” Barton began in his velvety smooth tone. “From my perspective, panic is unwarranted.”

  Spencer took a deep breath as if he was mentally preparing himself for a traumatic event. “Are you familiar with the concept of the chain of command, General?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Then you should be aware, as the President of the Terran Coalition, I am the commander-in-chief of our military. Let’s get something straight. I don’t care for you. I think you’re a defeatist. The only reason I’m not firing you right now is that, in this crisis, we need continuity of operations.” A chilled silence descended over the room. “I welcome your counsel on military tactics and strategy, but make no mistake. We’re putting everything we’ve got in space.”

  For a moment, it appeared as if Barton would challenge the order. He pulled himself to a ramrod straight posture and bared his teeth for a second. “Understood, sir.”

  “Good. Now, fleet readiness?”

  “Half our carrier battle groups are in dock undergoing repairs or refits—”

  “Recall their crews, order them into space. We’ll stage our forces at CDF HQ. Reassure the public at large, and send a message to the Leaguers.” Spencer glanced at MacIntosh. “What about the refit of the mothball fleet? I signed orders to expedite that before I left office.”

  Barton and MacIntosh glanced between themselves, and their eyes settled on Fuentes. He spoke. “I ordered a slowdown on that effort. It was part of a secret deal with the League.”

  Spencer brought his hand down on the table and slammed it hard. “Damnit, Edwardo.” A few seconds ticked by, and he closed his eyes. “I apologize. Profanity should never be used in the people’s house.” After opening his eyes, he glanced at Fuentes. “We could use those ships about now.”

  “I’m sorry.” Fuentes cast his gaze downward. “I thought we could make the peace stick.”

  “What of the Lion of Judah’s sister ship?” David asked. The subject needs to change, now, before we start screaming at each other.

  MacIntosh harrumphed. “Delayed, and not combat capable.”

  A staffer stuck her head into the room. She wore a badge with the emblem of the communications team. “I apologize for the intrusion, Mr. President, but there’s a broadcast from the League you have to see. The holonews stations are holding the transmission for five minutes before they put it on live.”

  “Put it on.” Spencer directed his attention to the holoprojector on the far wall, as did the rest of the people in the situation room.

  An image appeared quickly of Admiral Pierre Seville, decked out in a League Navy dress uniform, complete with a chest full of campaign ribbons and medals. He smiled, the effect of such being most creepy to David. “Citizens of the galaxy and the Terran Coalition,” Seville began. “I come to you today to explain the presence of our fleet at the proud League bastion for peace—Unity Station. A week ago, a Coalition Defense Force military vessel staged an unprovoked attack on our forces. This, you see, is why we felt it prudent to ensure the safety of our station and peace throughout the galaxy, backed by the strength and power of our vast array of warships.”

  David felt the sudden urge to vomit.

  “This attack led to the destruction of forty vessels of the League of Sol Navy. They were murdered by the war criminal David Cohen, who just six months ago, killed thousands of civilians in an attack on a peaceful shipping port. This man is typical of the Terran Coalition. Supposed believers in a higher power of peace, yet they spread hate, war, and murder, everywhere they go.”

  “Why are we listening to this idiot?” MacIntosh fumed.

  “Sssssh,” Spencer quickly replied.

  “Due to this, the League will act to ensure the safety, security, and peace of all residing in the Sagittarius arm.” Seville paused, his mouth curling up into a grin. “Our fleet launches tomorrow morning with one objective. Liberate Canaan from its illegitimate leaders. I urge all neutral planets and empires to avoid contact with our forces, and allow us to conduct this peacekeeping operation.”

  Spencer grabbed the control and turned the holoprojector off. “I’ve seen enough.” For a moment, it appeared as if he might throw the device across the room. Letting out a breath, he dropped the remote on the table. “Okay. So our worst fears are confirmed. Options?”

  “We can put roughly five hundred ships in space,” MacIntosh interjected. “That’s enough, backed by Canaan’s planetary defenses, to stage a robust defense.”

  “What would you giv
e us for odds, if we put everything in space and faced Seville’s fleet down?” Spencer asked as he steepled his fingers together.

  Barton and MacIntosh exchanged glances before Barton spoke. “Assuming they only have the two thousand ships that we observed… sixty-forty. If they have more, it goes down fast, especially if we were to take into account the up-gunned battleships and cruisers Cohen observed in his last few combats.” He paused for a moment as the words sank in. “With respect, sir, we can’t gamble like that. There’s a process to follow in this sort of situation.”

  “The Exodus fleet.”

  “Yes, Mr. President.”

  “You want to run.” The way Spencer spoke, it was less of a statement and more of an accusation.

  “I don’t often agree with General Barton,” MacIntosh began. “On this, he’s right. The Exodus fleet exists for a reason, and we need to use it.”

  Barton leaned forward. “We should activate the fleet, get as many civilians as we can in it, top off the supplies, and detail as many carrier battle groups as possible to escort the cargo haulers and freighters.”

  As he watched the men discuss the Exodus plans, David felt sick to his stomach. Cowards cut and run. The CDF doesn’t. The thought, full of fire as it was, rang hollow, though. He knew they weren’t ready for an all-out fight. He’d hoped, no, assumed that the League would back down once they’d exposed the treachery. Too much to hope for. No, the Exodus fleet is there for a reason. It’s been our most closely guarded secret for decades. They’re right… we have to use it.

  “I was under the impression from briefings on the matter that General Erhart’s crimes had rendered many of the ships unusable for their intended purpose. Specifically, the population movers,” Fuentes interjected.

  Spencer smiled and set his hands down on the table. “I signed classified executive orders authorizing as a wartime expense, reversing his ‘modifications.’” He turned to MacIntosh. “Please tell me they were completed.”

  “I saw to it myself, sir.”

  “Good.” Spencer paused, his expression thoughtful. “Even at full strength, there’s only enough room for two hundred and fifty million people on those vessels. We could probably add another six to seven hundred million on civilian freighters that are sufficiently fast enough, with Lawrence drives capable of the required jump distances.”

  “There’s hundreds of billions of people in the Terran Coalition,” David said quietly. The room fell silent as each person presumably ran his words through their minds.

  “It’s the best option we have,” Spencer replied. “I don’t like it any more than you do, General.”

  “What about the Saurians? They still have a mighty fleet. If they joined us, it would be more than enough to smash Seville.” David stared directly at Spencer as he spoke. “I know you had a special relationship with Chief Minister Obe, sir.”

  “I tried.” Spencer looked away. “On the way over, I put in a priority call to him. The answer was, well, pretty much something my mother used to tell me. You made your bed… lie in it.”

  “The Matrinids?” David asked. Surely someone will help us. Can’t they see if we fall, the League will gobble up the entire Sagittarius arm, nation by nation? “What about the neutrals? There are consistent rumblings about a neutral coalition setting up its own fleet for defensive purposes. Perhaps they’d—”

  “Pirates, fifty-year-old warships, and a lack of political will,” Barton interrupted. “Give me a break, Cohen.”

  “Those fifty-year-old warships sent the Leaguers packing at Hestia.” David crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared the older man down. “We could at least ask.”

  “And we will, General,” Spencer said. “The Matrinids are out. They’re not willing to spill their blood for us.”

  “There’s another problem,” Barton offered. “Under normal conditions, it would take a minimum of three weeks to embark and outfit that many people on the Exodus fleet—”

  “We can do it in a week,” MacIntosh interjected.

  “And if we can’t?” Barton stared at him. “There needs to be a plan B.”

  “A blocking force at Canaan, to hold the League’s attention as much as possible. We’ll load civilians until the last second, then bug out.”

  Everyone went silent and stared at MacIntosh. David did too. Whoever’s in that force will be overrun within hours. It would be a suicide mission. He briefly pondered the prospect of the Lion of Judah riding across the galaxy and wondered if that was where he would end up.

  “God help us, that’s probably the best and only play,” Spencer finally said as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “We’ll need the best to lead them.” His eyes settled on David.

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the unspoken question. What, they don’t have the gumption to ask me? David sat mute, having decided that if they wanted him to go out, someone would have to have the balls to voice it.

  Fuentes leaned forward and made eye contact with David. “General, I gravely underestimated the threat from the League. For that, I apologize. For there to be hope in the people, they need a symbol. The Lion of Judah, under your command, has been that symbol for years. Will you do it once more?”

  David locked eyes with Fuentes, his eyes blazing with anger. “With all due respect, Mr. Fuentes.” He consciously avoided using the title of Vice President. This idiot doesn’t deserve the honor. “You can’t suddenly get religion after figuring out how bad the League is and act like nothing ever happened.” His voice rose in pitch. “This crisis is your fault. You invited a radical nutcase into your administration and allowed your vice president to demonize the people you now beg to go out and die for your sorry ass.”

  The use of profanity brought abject stares from everyone in the room. MacIntosh touched David on the shoulder. “You’re out of line, son.”

  “No he isn’t.” Fuentes replied as he pursed his lips together. “This is my fault. I’ll live with it for the rest of my life, and General Cohen is welcome to say anything he wants to me. Hell, if he wants to go outside and beat me to a pulp to feel better, he can do it.” He made eye contact with David. “Will you retake command?”

  “I remember the words of a great man who once said that if you do not fight when the victory would be easy and the cost light, you will be forced to fight when victory is in doubt, and the cost far heavier. Or you may find yourself in a situation where you fight with no hope of victory, because death is preferable to slavery.” Tears shone in David’s eyes as he spoke. “That’s where you’ve put us, Mr. Fuentes. Now it’s on me, and those who will serve under me, to die for your mistakes.”

  Silence broke out, and the room became hushed. The sound of a pin dropping on the table would have been the same as a thunderclap. “We need the Lion of Judah,” Spencer finally interjected. “And for her to be fully effective, you must command her.” He stared squarely at David.

  “I’ll do it,” David said as he slowly nodded his head. “And not because any of you asked. Not even because I swore an oath on the Torah to obey the lawful orders given to me, which for a Jew, that oath is unbreakable. I’ll do it because I love the Terran Coalition. It’s the one place in this galaxy where Jews, Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Atheists, capitalists, socialists, and anyone else can live without fear. Where you can pursue happiness on your terms. And, it’s the only place where even aliens who can’t speak any of our languages long to come. If we could only get to the Terran Coalition, they say, then we could be free to make something of ourselves.” He exhaled and inhaled again, trying to control the emotions within him. “That’s why I’ll go out there and defend it one last time. Because it's worth fighting for.” He stared at Fuentes. “It’s even worth dying for. I’d started to forget that these last few months, but the last couple of weeks reminded me of what’s important. That’s something I wouldn’t expect you’d understand.”

  MacIntosh glanced at David. “I’ll have your commission reinstated immedia
tely.”

  “I won’t serve under General Barton.”

  “This isn’t a democracy, Cohen,” Barton replied hotly. “You’ll take and execute lawful orders from anyone appointed over you.”

  David turned and stared at the older man. “I won’t go out to die, with my crew, under the command of a coward.”

  “Funny, coming from a man wearing religious garb who bailed out of the service when he didn’t get his way.”

  Fury built within David. For a split second, he pictured punching Barton repeatedly in the face and smashing his nose until it sprayed blood. It took him a few seconds to force the emotion down. “It’s not up for debate. I’ll report to anyone in the CDF—except you.”

  “We’ll deal with this later,” Spencer interjected, his tone one of a man not to be trifled with. “For now, General Cohen is under the direct command of General MacIntosh.”

  “But—” Barton began.

  “Move on.” Spencer leaned back in his chair and made eye contact with Barton. “Do your job and stay out of my way.” He turned his head and adopted a far more reasonable tone. “Edwardo, I want you and the rest of the civilian government to accompany the Exodus fleet.”

  “What about you?” Fuentes asked.

  “I’m staying here, on Canaan.” He held up a hand. “No debates. My place is here, leading the fight. If by some miracle the League doesn’t destroy Lawrence City from orbit, I’ll join in its defense along with whatever civilian militias remain.”

  MacIntosh cleared his throat. “With your permission, I’ll remain as well, sir, to help guide the fleet and our last stand.”

  “Approved.”