The offer was tempting, Kenneth realized, and as soon as the thought went through his mind, a wave of revulsion came right behind it. Words his father had told him long ago echoed. Character is what we do when we think no one is watching. “No. I won’t allow you to do this.”
Casey laughed and shook his head. “Ah, the boy scout has spoken.” He reached down to pick up a briefcase. “You and what army is going to stop us?”
“We are.” Kenneth reached behind his back and gripped the butt of the energy pistol. He drew it in a fluid motion and sighted down on Casey. “Where’s the money?”
Everyone froze—Casey and Lee included. All eyes focused on Kenneth or, more accurately, his weapon. Lee took a single step forward. “Kenneth, there’s no need for violence.”
“Ma’am, don’t move,” Kenneth replied as he swung the gun toward her. “I’m not letting you rob our employees or the government.”
“The government doesn’t exist anymore!” Casey thundered in the background. “Get over yourself.” He again reached down, and this time grabbed the briefcase. “What are you going to do, Kenny boy, shoot us all?”
“Where’s the money?” Kenneth asked. “You wouldn’t be taking it electronically because the banks will crash.” He glanced at the crates. “And credit chips with high values are easy to steal. What’s in the boxes?”
Lee and Casey exchanged a glance, and then time seemed to slow. Casey raised the briefcase as if it were a weapon and charged forward.
Instinctively, Kenneth swung the energy pistol back to Casey. I should shoot to wound. The thought went through him in a split second—after all, they probably needed the bastard for his access codes. He aimed the weapon at the older man’s knee and stroked the trigger twice. The first shot went wide, hitting the deck and leaving a burn in the alloy. The second found its mark, and Casey collapsed to the floor, screaming in agony as blood freely flowed from the now burned and misshapen kneecap.
“Shit,” Billings exclaimed as he drew his sidearm and aimed at Lee. “Nobody move!”
Even as she shivered in fear, Lee screamed and rushed to Casey’s side. She had the presence of mind to rip off his belt and tie it above the knee, cutting off blood flow.
“Now, where’s the money?” Kenneth’s voice took on a measure of steel. Something clicked inside of him, and a reserve of confidence he didn’t know existed took over. “Or I’ll take out your other knee, Casey. I told you a few weeks ago; I’d meet you on solid ground any day. Apparently, you weren’t paying attention.”
Casey spat in Kenneth’s face. “Screw you,” he gasped.
As he wrestled with a desire to shoot the man’s other kneecap, Kenneth made his way to the neatly stacked pile of crates. Taking care to keep his gun hand aimed at Lee and the others, he popped the first box open and whistled loudly. “Ah. I see. One-hundred-credit chips... tens of thousands of them. Won’t set off scanners and easy to move.” He stared at Casey. “They’re also security locked. I’ll need the passphrase.”
“There’s no need for further violence,” Lee interjected. “I have the entire security sequence on my tablet.”
Billings gestured with his sidearm. “Slowly.”
She reached carefully into a large bag at her feet. A moment later, Lee gingerly withdrew a tablet and passed it to Carter. “It's unlocked.”
Carter turned to Kenneth and nodded. “It’s all here, boss.”
“Take what you’re due in salary for the last pay period,” Kenneth ordered. “The rest is coming with us.”
“So you can run away?” Casey sneered. “You’re a petty thug.”
Kenneth approached the fallen man and aimed his pistol at him. “No. You’re a thief and a con artist. I’m returning the employees’ money to them. Then I’ll try to figure out how to fix the ships you left undone.”
“You want to kill me, don’t you? What’s the matter, Kenny, don’t have the balls?”
As Kenneth contemplated moving his finger to the trigger and pulling it, he felt a hand on his arm.
It belonged to Carter. “You don’t want this on your conscience.”
Kenneth shivered even as his grip on the gun tightened. He tried to force himself to calm down. “Lucky for you, I’m not the hypocrite you are.” He pointed the weapon at the deck. “We’re done here. Once all those crates of credit chips are off your ship, you’re free to continue to wherever you plan to go, Ms. Lee.”
Billings tapped a series of commands into the robotic loader, and it picked up the stack of boxes and hauled them back into the station. “I’ll get the rest of them, boss.”
“What about us?” Casey rasped, still lying on his side and clutching at the bleeding knee.
Kenneth opened his mouth, then had a different thought and grinned. “Why, you can go back to your vacation home you’re always going on about… and enjoy those thousand-credits-a-pop theater chairs. If you’re super lucky, maybe the Leaguers won’t execute you on the spot, and you’ll get assigned to a reeducation camp.” Without another word, he turned his back and went about offloading the rest of the money from Lee’s ship.
* * *
It had been twenty-four hours since Angie said goodbye to David. Probably for the last time. At first, she cried. Then sadness turned to anger as she pondered why he would choose the CDF over her. Eventually, it all gave way to resignation. She couldn’t change what was happening, only her reaction to it. Such was Angie’s attitude as she walked through the doors to Galactic News Network’s Lawrence City headquarters. Pure pandemonium greeted her as people rushed around—more of a full-out run, really. After swiping her ID and registering a thumbprint, she made her way up to the forty-seventh floor and her office.
She’d barely set her purse down and synched her tablet with the GNN computer network when the door flew open. “There you are!” her editor, Derek Cornett, exclaimed. “We thought you’d been killed or got whisked up by the CDF.”
“No such luck,” Angie replied.
Cornett, a tall male of nearly two meters in stature, closed the door and slid into a chair. “It’s insane out there. We’re just waiting for the riots to start.”
“Waiting?” she asked absentmindedly.
“Yeah. Not much else we can do. The board is trying to buy a few freighters to get us out on,” Cornett continued. “Who knows, though.” He laughed. “All that money spent by the CDF, and we can’t even defend our home planet.”
Angie’s face morphed into an angry snarl. “If we hadn’t agreed to a fake peace, the League would be defeated by now.”
“Ah. I didn’t realize you were one of them,” Cornett said dismissively.
“Them?”
“Spencer supporter.”
It was all Angie could do not to channel her anger into telling Cornett what she thought of him, the whole protest movement, and the political situation on Canaan in one profanity-laden burst that would guarantee her termination. Instead, she stared at him. “Do you have anything you want me to do?”
“Not really. There’s little to cover besides the wall-to-wall briefings coming out of CDF HQ and the White House.” He chuckled. “Did you hear about the candlelight vigil planned for the day the League ships arrive?”
“No.” Angie narrowed her eyes. “Where?”
“Here in Lawrence City. It’s spread over social media. Supposedly a few hundred thousand people have pledged to show up and pray for the CDF. Hopefully, I’ll be on a ship headed out of here.”
Cornett kept talking, but Angie spaced out what he was saying. The idea of ordinary citizens in the face of an impending invasion that would most likely result in their deaths, deciding of their own accord to come together, moved her. Even as she held anger toward David for going back to the fight, she also dearly wished to be with the man she loved. “Do you have anyone to cover the march?”
“Uh, no. No one wants to go anywhere near it.”
“I’ll do it.”
“What?” Cornett’s eyes opened wide. “Are you
serious?”
“Yeah.”
“Your funeral. CDF’s not slowing down the League. It’s just going to be a bloodbath. They’ll be a bump in the road if anything.”
Angie pursed her lips together. “You know, Derek, I could do without your prognostications about their chances. I, for one, pray to God they succeed.”
“Is that because your boyfriend’s leading the fleet?”
“That, and we need a miracle.” Her eyes blazed anger. “I think we’re done talking here.”
“Agreed.” Cornett stood and beat a hasty retreat, leaving Angie alone in her office and her thoughts. Her eyes drifted to a digital photo frame of her and David, standing together in a happier time. That night was so much fun. Her mind drifted back to the date they’d been on when it was taken. God, please help him come home.
* * *
An hour later, Kenneth was back in his small office on Churchill station, along with Billings and Carter. He was also still shaking. I can’t believe I shot Casey. How did it all go so wrong? The answer was simple, of course. He had an obligation to stop anyone from stealing the CDF’s money—and to finish work on the ships they so desperately needed. Preventing Margaret Lee and Stephen Casey from taking the credits was the only logical course of action.
“Boss, I think you’re in shock,” Billings said gently. “Let's get you down to a medical bay or the clinic, okay?”
“No.” Kenneth shook his head. “We’ve got to figure this out. The ships must be completed. There’s only six days until the Leaguers get here.” The propaganda reports put out by the League of Sol were like a ticking clock on the life of the Terran Coalition.
“I’d do anything to help. You know that boss,” Billings continued. “Maybe, though, we should consider using the money to get our people and their families to safety. It’d go a long way; hell, we could buy a freighter or two of our own. Make sure everyone got out and fill the rest of the berths up randomly.”
For a moment, Kenneth considered his words. “It’d be easy to run, Master Chief. But that’s what cowards do. We’re not cowards.”
Silence broke out in the compact space, and it was a good thirty seconds before Carter spoke. “I’m not sure there’s anything we can do but accept defeat.”
“What if we had manpower—a lot of it?”
Billings and Carter both stared at him. It was Billings who opened his mouth. “Boss, even if we had a hundred thousand workers, you know the drill. Nine women can’t have a baby in one month.”
Kenneth tried to run through the checklists for completing the refits mentally. Most of the vessels had the reactor upgrades completed, but they needed new shields and weapons installed. The kind of things that, if done wrong, tended to blow up. “Let’s try it.”
“Try what?”
“We’ll go down to the comms room and put out a sector-wide request for personnel. Anyone who has experience with CDF engineering or wants to lend a hand. In exchange, we’ll ensure they get a trip out of here once the work is done. How about that for a what, Master Chief?” Kenneth forced himself to grin.
“You’re nuts, boss.”
“What the hell… worst that can happen is they tell us no,” Carter interjected. “It doesn’t sit well with me to just walk away either.”
“Good. Let’s go.” Kenneth stood and opened the door to his office. He strode out quickly, with purpose. As the little group made its way through the decks, they encountered almost no one. It took a good ten minutes of walking to reach the secure communications area, which uncharacteristically at this time of day, was locked. He tried swiping his access card on the hatch control, only to have it buzz at him and remain red.
“Allow me,” Billings said as he stepped forward. The older man deftly popped the control panel open and touched two of the wires together. They sparked with an audible pop, and the hatch slid open. “Open sesame.”
“I’m pretty sure we just committed a class A felony,” Kenneth said with a grin and pushed his way inside the darkened room. The flip of a switch later revealed the communications gear in standby mode. He walked over to one of the consoles and poked at it. “Hmmm. It looks to me like they left everything on. You guys don’t have to join me in this, you know. I’m about to hit the point of no return.”
Billings crossed his arms in front of his chest and snorted. “I can’t speak for Joshua, but I’m here for the long haul. Besides, we’ve already broken enough laws today that, if they decide to lock us up, it’ll be years before we see the outside world again.”
“Goes for me too, sir,” Carter said quietly. “If I can help, I will.”
“Okay,” Kenneth replied. “Then let’s access the emergency broadcast system. It’ll override every signal out there and be our best chance at attracting folks to help.” He rolled up his sleeves and tried to remember what used to come so naturally—breaking into a closed information technology system.
* * *
Twenty-nine lightyears away from Churchill, Benson Pipes, formerly a Lieutenant General in the Coalition Defense Force, shuffled through the living room to his modest home on New Washington. He and his wife, Margie, had lived there for close to thirty years. As he walked through a hallway to the bedrooms, he felt a pang of sadness at the family pictures of his wife and son. The walls were covered in photos, awards, medals, and other mementos of the Pipes family’s service to the Terran Coalition. Service that cost his only son his life.
“Benson, hurry up, honey. We’ve got to finish packing,” Margie called out, her tone insistent.
“I’m coming.” He gathered himself and quickened his pace. “Now, we won’t have room for everything. Just two bags. One each, and a small item like a purse is all we’re allowed.”
Margie embraced him as he came into their bedroom and rested her head against his chest. “I know, dearest. I just hate leaving behind all our memories.”
Before either of them could speak, a loud buzzer went off—emitted from all speakers in their home’s smart control computer. Pipes recognized it immediately as the emergency warning tone. Is the League ahead of schedule? Are we too late? The calm he’d learned to project from thirty-five years in the service took over. He grabbed his wife’s hand. “Let’s go see what this is all about.” Walking toward the living room, he activated the main holoprojector.
It immediately came to life with the logo of the CDF. “This is not a test. I say again, this is not a test. Stand by for important information from the Coalition Defense Force Civil Defense system,” a disembodied voice stated.
Margie came up beside him and clutched his arm. “I’m scared, Benson,” she whispered.
A figure came onto the projection, exceedingly tall at over two meters. Whoever was controlling the camera on the other end had to adjust it several times to get the fellow’s head in the picture. Finally, they did. “Uh, hi. This is Kenneth Lowe. I’m, uh, I’m a program manager with a defense contractor. You’re probably wondering why I’m on an official frequency. Allow me to explain.” Over the new few minutes, Kenneth went over the events of finding out SSI was stealing from the government, and how he and his team stopped them.
“So you see,” Kenneth continued. “We’re in a unique position to do something. The League’s sent an overwhelming force, yes. But these ships we were supposed to finish, there’s enough of them to help turn the tide. My team and I can’t do it alone. To have any chance of completing them, we’ll need tens of thousands of workers, and military crews to man them once we’re done. I call on anyone who’s served, understands shipboard systems and engineering concepts, especially around shields and weapons, and anyone with current or prior military service. If all you can do is move boxes, it doesn’t matter. We need you.”
Pipes watched in utter fascination. He’d heard once or twice from David about some defense contractor named Kenneth that always took care of the Lion, but now, he was shocked beyond belief.
“I have enough money in SSI’s accounts that I can assure the safe pa
ssage of thirty thousand people. That’s what we’re offering. Help us get these ships fixed, and I’ll buy you a ticket. That’s all I can do. Please, the League can be defeated, but only if we give the brave men and women fighting for us the tools they need to do the job. Help me give them the means to finish the fight. Join us on Churchill’s main shipyard. I’m Kenneth Lowe, and I’ll broadcast this message again in one hour. Thank you.”
The projector clicked off, and the civil defense override dropped, leaving the house in silence. Pipes stared, his head locked forward as his mind raced.
“Benson, you are not going to Churchill.”
He broke into a broad grin. “You know me too well, dear.”
“I mean it. I forbid you to go.”
“You know I must.” He took her hand in his and squeezed it. “I can help.”
She stared at him with tears in her eyes. “I’m not willing to lose you now. Not after you survived thirty-five years in uniform and came home to me.”
Pipes leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “If I direct reservists to Churchill that can man those ships, there’s a chance we could save the Terran Coalition.” He left unspoken that he’d already done the math. Despite the clear trumpeting of the narrative that the Lion of Judah would save the day with the rest of the fleet, as they always had, it rang hollow. Judging from how many ships it would take to escort the Exodus fleet, David wouldn’t have a chance. I’m not going to let him die too.
“I won’t be talking you out of this, will I?”
“No.”
Margie embraced him again. “You always were stubborn, Benson.”
“It’s why you married me.”
She laughed, and the gentle sound of it carried through the house. “I suppose I should iron your uniform?”
“I’d appreciate it. I’m going to start making calls.” As he pulled away from her, Pipes felt a pang of guilt. He’d only started to finish the list of things she’d been patiently waiting for him to do for the last ten years, and they’d both looked forward to retirement. Now it would have to wait.
Finish the Fight: Echoes of War Book Seven Page 14
