“We may have to worry about civil unrest. Once the population learns there’s not nearly enough seats to evacuate everyone, I would expect to see riots or worse,” Barton interjected.
“I have faith that our citizens will remain calm,” Spencer replied. “If we have evidence of looming unrest, I’ll revisit it.”
David sat mute as the discussions continued. Little of the constant talking had an impact on the dire situation the Lion of Judah and the rest of the fleet faced. He began to force himself back into the mindset of a combatant. Eventually, the meeting room cleared, and he headed for the exit.
* * *
After leaving the situation room, David made his way back to the rented helicar he was using. Even after the discussion with President Spencer, and the near-certainty he wasn’t going to survive the next battle with the League, there was something he had to do. A task he dreaded even more than facing Seville: Telling Angie he was returning to active duty and taking command of the Lion of Judah, once more.
He sat through the trip back to the apartment in silence, his mind at war with itself. As it came to a stop on the street in front of the building, he steeled himself and exited the helicar. A few minutes later, he was scanning his retina to open the door to their shared apartment. “Angie? Are you here?”
The patter of running feet sounded through from the living room, and she tore across the foyer to embrace him tightly. “I was so worried. I got your message, but,” Angie’s voice dropped off for a moment. “I thought you might not come home.”
David returned the embrace and kissed the top of her head. “I know. It was touch and go for a bit. But I’m back.”
“It’s over, right? The League’s going to back down?”
I’d rather do anything than break her heart. Anything. “We should go sit down. I need to talk to you.” David gestured toward the living room.
Angie bit her lip and stalked out, arms crossed in front of her. “You're going back, aren’t you?” The tone of her voice was like an accusation.
Once they’d both sat on the couch, David swallowed and forced himself to speak. “Angie, you have to understand this is a galactic emergency. The League isn’t going away. They’ve sent the balance of their home defense fleet. We’re talking thousands of ships.”
“What does it mean, David?”
“It means we probably can’t defeat them in a head-on fight.” Silence invaded the room. It quickly became oppressive, smothering David like a blanket.
“Then what are we going to do?”
He closed his eyes. And here goes nothing. “The government has a top-secret plan to evacuate as many people as possible in the Exodus fleet.”
“What?”
“I can’t go into further details, except to say it’s been something the government’s worked on for hundreds of years. There was a renewed focus on it, obviously, after the war started.” I can’t even tell her about Erhart. “The point is, the fleet can support millions of people. Civilian ships that have the Lawrence drives to keep up will be accepted as well. We’re hoping to evacuate half a billion souls, at least.”
“David, there’s what, a few hundred billion people in the Terran Coalition?”
“It’s not a perfect solution.” He found himself getting defensive at the biting nature of her comments. “But it’s the best one the Joint Chiefs of Staff can come up with. Even that’s not going to be enough.”
“What do you mean?”
David reached out and took her hand in his. “Seville’s fleet will probably get here before the Exodus fleet can finish getting spun up and ready to go. The CDF is going to leave behind a contingent of warships at Canaan to buy enough time for the rest to escape.”
Revulsion washed over Angie’s face. Her mouth curled up in a snarl. “That’s awful. Disgusting. Sending people out to die for no good reason?”
“Of course it’s a good reason,” he snapped. “It’s what we signed up for.”
“What we…” Her voice trailed off. Angie turned to him, her jaw open. “You're going to stay.” While her words were spoken softly, the tone was one of immense pain. “Why? You gave everything you had. You did your duty… you promised me that you were done.”
“I took an oath, Angie. To defend the Terran Coalition against all enemies. I swore it before God. I can’t turn my back now.”
She grabbed both of his hands and leaned in, her lips only inches from him. Her eyes flashed anger. “David, listen to yourself! There’s tens of millions of soldiers in the CDF. You don’t matter. If you’re present at this battle or not, it doesn’t matter. The only person it matters to is me!”
“I’m pretty sure my mother doesn’t want me to die either.” David tried to force a lame smile.
“Don’t you dare try to deflect me.”
“Angie—”
“Don’t Angie me.” She started to cry, first silently, then in giant, loud sobs. “You don’t have to do this.”
For a moment, David was silent. He pondered what she said. The truth is, she’s probably right—one part of his brain argued. No, I have to be there. They have to see me standing tall. He’d wrestled with the decision, even after leaving the White House. I could always say no. A sigh escaped his lips. “If I abandon my post, who else would stand?”
“Because you’re the great General Cohen that never loses?” Sobs continued to rack her body, but her words were venomous.
“No, but I know many across the fleet believe that. They’re used to the Lion of Judah pulling through. We’ve been a symbol of hope for so long… the Lion must lead the charge, and I have to be there. Semper Anticus. It's our motto. Always at the front. ” David reached out and tried to take her hand, even though she jerked it away. “Angie, I don’t want to do this. But I have to. I owe it to the Terran Coalition, and you.”
Her eyes flashed anger. “You owe it to me to stay alive!”
David briefly closed his eyes and pursed his lips together. “This way, at least I know you’ll be safe.”
“David, what are you talking about?”
“I told Spencer that you and my mother were on the evacuation ships. Or I wouldn’t do it.”
“You think I want to fly off into the sunset knowing the man I love is dying in some last stand against a fleet he can’t beat?”
For a moment, David thought she might slap him across the face. Her hand came up, and it certainly seemed if it was under consideration. Instead, she clung to him and sobbed all the more. He wrapped his arms around her, unsure of what to do besides try and console her. “I’m sorry, Angie.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not,” he blurted out, not even thinking about it.
“If you’re going to die, I can do it with you. We can be together in the end.”
He ran his hand through her hair and gently brushed her bangs to the side. “I can’t make the hard decisions I’ll have to make if they’d hurt you. I need to know you’re safe. Where I must go, you can’t follow.”
“But—”
“No buts. Someone’s got to keep my mother calm, after all.” David tried to smile but couldn’t. A tear fell down his cheek. “I love you. I always will.” He leaned in and kissed her softly. “It’s time for me to go change. I need to report to the Lion as soon as possible and take command of the fleet.”
“Please don’t go.”
“I have to.”
She sat back, still crying. “I’m not going to change your mind, am I?”
“No.” He shook his head sadly. “It’s who I am, Angie. The sheepdog. My job is to fight the wolves and protect the sheep, just like my father used to say.” He gave her hand another squeeze. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
David could feel her eyes boring into his back as he walked into the bedroom. He stripped off his clothes and entered the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, he stared at the bearded face in front of him. His bearded face and curled payos. I’ve cut them for years before now, he
pondered. Something about the payos and beard made him feel closer to God. Like I’m actually a Jew. I’ve compromised the Mitzvot for so many years, and I forgot what it felt like to obey them. He knew he was excused from the specific Mitzvot because the fire protection masks on a CDF ship required a clean-shaven face to form a seal. Still, acting like a Jew outwardly and inwardly. Living my beliefs and customs. That’s something I haven’t been able to show in decades.
Such was the consideration as he took an object out of the cabinet he hadn’t touched in months: his electric razor. David hefted it in his hands, staring at the device like it was a deadly weapon. I could still walk away. Tell Angie we’re leaving. I’m sure we could find a place on a freighter somewhere. I’ve saved most of my money over the years. As soon as he had the thought, another portion of his brain lashed out. If I run away, the League will win. I must stay. I must finish the fight. He flipped the switch, and the razor buzzed. “HaShem, forgive me,” he said out loud.
David pressed the blade up to his skin and slowly worked it through his beard, leaving a strip where the skin showed. Tears streamed down his face as he ran the razor over his face, again and again, until it was free of facial hair. Gone were his carefully grown payos. He now looked the part of the dedicated Coalition Defense Force officer. After a quick space shower—two minutes of water total—he toweled off and put on his khaki service uniform. As David put on his nametag, command-in-space pin, rank insignia, and campaign ribbons, he paused to pray. “HaShem, please see my heart. Please protect those in harm's way, if it is Your will. Please watch over my loved ones, especially my mother and Angie. Do not allow evil to befall them.” He rocked gently as he did. “Please remember me when I perish in this fight.”
“Why wouldn’t He?” Angie said from behind him.
David nearly jumped out of his skin and whirled around. “I didn’t hear you back there.”
“Stealth mode.” She tried to grin, but much like him, the effect wasn’t there.
“Sometimes, I wonder if God will want me. After all the blood I’ve spilled.” He reached out and pulled her into an embrace. “If there is any way for me to come home to you, I will. I promise you that with all my heart and soul.”
“I know.” She kissed him. “I warmed up one of those kosher meals. Can you eat before you leave?”
He forced a smile back at her. “Sounds like a plan to me.” As David followed her to the dining room, he tried to balance his precarious mental state. On the one hand, he knew what had to be done. On the other, confronting what was likely his last few days in the universe was a daunting task.
13
Two hours later, David sat in the back of a CDF shuttle on its way up to the Lion of Judah. Ruth and Taylor were across from him, along with a small group of other officers he didn’t recognize. New transfers, I suppose. Usually, he’d have chatted them up and tried to get to know anyone assigned to his ship. Today, he was reflective and quiet. Ruth had tried a few times to start a conversation but finally took a cue from one-word answers that he wasn’t in the mood to talk.
“General,” the intercom blared with the voice of the shuttle’s pilot. “We’re redirecting to the main hangar deck on orders from flight control. It’ll just be a few minutes more.”
“Understood,” David replied after he depressed a button next to his head to enable the mic.
The next few minutes passed without incident as he steeled himself to set foot on the ship he’d commanded for two and a half years. While the war was hell, David treasured those years and the people he’d been privileged to serve with. After the shuttle came to a stop, the cargo door swung down, revealing the Lion’s flight deck. The sight that greeted him was a sea of CDF soldiers, both enlisted and officers, packed in like sardines. That’s got to be most of the ship’s company. He sprang up from his seat and strode toward the opening. A sense of duty coursed through him as he stepped onto the flight deck.
“General on deck!” a grizzled master chief shouted. Immediately, those assembled formed into neat rows came to attention and saluted.
David brought his hand to his brow and returned their salutes. His eyes found Hammond’s petite form. I wonder where Spier is? “Permission to come aboard, Lieutenant?” he asked, addressing her directly.
“Permission granted, General.” Hammond broke into a huge grin. “Sir, it’s good to have you back.”
The moment they finished speaking, shouts and cheers broke out across the cavernous hangar. The ship itself seemed to shake as the voices of thousands of crewmembers rocked the alloy plating. Thunderous applause broke out and sustained itself for several minutes.
David leaned in close to Hammond. “Lieutenant, I specifically requested we keep this simple.” He wore a grin.
“Sir,” Hammond replied, her lips curled up in a grin from ear to ear. “The goat locker got wind you were coming back to take command. We would’ve had a mutiny on our hands if the crew didn’t get to greet you.”
“Where’s Colonel Spier?” David asked between chuckles as the crowd continued to cheer and applaud.
“Stomach ache, sir.”
David blanched, annoyed the rumors he’d heard about the man who took his place appeared to be true. Too much of a coward to greet me? That doesn’t bode well for morale or preparedness. He forced the thought away, as it had no bearing on the task at hand.
Around him, the soldiers began to chant. “General Cohen!” followed by a series of claps. They did it repeatedly, the thunder of their voices rising with every repetition.
It was then it hit David full on. They expect me to lead us to victory. He closed his eyes for a brief moment as his stomach knotted up. How can I tell these brave men and women we’re probably going to die? As soon as he thought it, the answer roared into his mind. You don’t—because it would destroy morale and hand the League a victory.
“Sir, I think you need to say something,” Hammond said, her voice a full-on shout that was barely audible even at close range.
“I agree,” Ruth called out. “Speech!”
“Okay,” David replied. “I need a mic into the PA system.”
Taylor passed over his handcomm. “Already cued in, sir; just press to transmit.”
David brought the device up to his lips. “I hear you.” He managed a grin.
The chant stopped, replaced by wild applause.
“Thank you, soldiers of the Lion of Judah, for a rousing welcome.” As the tumult died down, David continued. “Six months ago, I stepped off this ship for what I thought was the last time. Back then, I told many of you it was the highest honor of my life to have served side by side with this crew.”
Again, cheering, applause, and chants broke out throughout the hangar.
“Thank you,” David interjected as he held up his hand to quiet the crowd. “We all hoped this peace with the League would last. But I suspect many of you, like me, who have answered the call to be a warrior, knew in your heart it wouldn’t. Today, I find myself in a place I never expected to be. Once again, your commanding officer.” He pursed his lips together as he scanned the crowd, making eye contact with people from each section. “I’m aware that over ninety percent of the Lion’s crew have volunteered for this mission. Nothing could make me prouder of all of you in this dire hour. For the next week, we will stand together, ensure our vessel is ready to fight, and prepare a hot reception for the Leaguers!”
As more chants and applause made the deck shake, an older man wearing the stripes of a Master Chief stood on top of a crate. His raspy voice cut through the noise as he shouted, “To hell with the League. Give ‘em hell, General!”
At that, the rank and file restarted the previous chant. “General Cohen! General Cohen!”
Somewhere deep inside, David felt shame. They expected a miracle he couldn’t give them. He sucked in a breath and forced the mask of command to take over his face. “The League is coming, but we will rise to meet them, and with the help of Almighty God, we will prevail!”
“We’d better get to the bridge. I want to handle things with Colonel Spier and move on with getting this ship in fighting shape.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Hammond replied. “Follow me, sir.”
The small group consisting of David, Hammond, Ruth, and Taylor made their way through the hangar as the sea of soldiers parted, even as they continued to cheer and applaud. It took them fifteen minutes to reach the gravlift that led to deck one. The doors slid shut, and David closed his eyes briefly.
“Are you okay, sir?” Ruth asked.
He glanced at her. “Just peachy, Captain. Yourself?”
“Fine, sir.”
I know what she’s asking. David, for a moment, allowed his brain to go there as the lift zoomed up the tube. He’d never been one to accept a cult of personality, and the last hour of his life tended to be against everything he believed in. The Terran Coalition and their protectors—the Coalition Defense Force—worked because they were a nation of laws, not of men. Men were fallible, easily given to temptation. Laws, impartially enforced, were not. The shock of finding thousands of League vessels, all coming to invade their home, hadn’t faded. Nor had the realization that without something akin to a miracle, they would face inevitable defeat. David couldn’t allow those thoughts or wonder as to why God would allow such a thing to take root in his mind. So he forced a neutral expression onto his face and banished the line of thinking from his brain as the doors swished open.
At the far end of the deck one corridor, the two Marine sentries came to rigid attention. “General on deck!” one of them called out.
David flashed a grin as he approached them. “As you were, gentlemen.” He pulled his cover on—the old, faded Lion of Judah ballcap—and stepped through the hatch onto the bridge. It was as he remembered—huge, gleaming, and full of soldiers. Everyone stood as he entered. Colonel Amir and Dr. Tural were present as well, standing off to the side.
Finish the Fight: Echoes of War Book Seven Page 12
