by Daniel Gibbs
There was silence in the room while others filed in. At a minute or so until the top of the hour, when the meeting was to start, Stephen Casey walked in with a group of people. Kenneth recognized them as his team leads and program managers.
“We could have done this over vidlink and saved a lot of shuttle fuel,” Casey remarked as he sat down, a dour expression on his face.
“I’m sure you’ll bill it all back to the government somehow,” Korra replied.
She hasn’t missed a beat with the snappy comebacks. “Well, for those of us that do real work, it was just a short walk.”
Casey’s head snapped around, and his eyes seemed to bore into Kenneth’s face. “We didn’t ask you.”
Kenneth smiled broadly in return. Now who’s cool, calm, and collected? Arrogant ass.
“Is that everyone?” Korra asked.
“Margaret Lee will be joining us,” Kenneth interjected, drawing another dirty look from Casey.
Billings leaned forward and whispered into his ear, “Boss, you want a pugil stick or something? Put you and Casey in a cage with one and let you beat the crap out of him?”
Kenneth laughed as Billings sat back in his chair. The people sitting close to one another made small talk, while the group waited for Lee. Finally, she walked in hurriedly and took a seat next to Casey. “I apologize, Miss Wallace. My shuttle was late.”
“Not a problem,” Korra replied, her tone all business. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
“I don’t see why we’re here,” Casey interjected, casting a glowering look at Kenneth, Carter, and Billings. “Contractors fall behind on schedules all the time.”
“Yes, they do, Mister Casey. But your team hasn’t made a good-faith effort to complete the work on time or within budget. In fact, you’ve directed them otherwise.”
“Excuse me?”
Korra held up her tablet. “I have it all right here, in black and white,” she said with a dazzling smile.
Kenneth watched in amazement as, for once, Casey had no comeback. The color drained from his face.
“I’m sure there’s a misunderstanding,” Lee said, her face betraying shock.
Korra’s mouth was tight, and her eyebrows furrowed together. “No. It’s quite clear. SSI engaged in a systematic effort to defraud the Coalition Defense Force, in violation of regulations, the law… and basic human decency. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a war on for our survival. We need those ships in the fight.”
“You sold us out!” Casey exploded, shouting at Kenneth. “You doctored those files! Just to get me!”
“Shut up, Stephen.”
Kenneth’s head twisted around like it was on a swivel, as did Korra’s and everyone else in the room, to see Margaret Lee staring at Casey, her face red.
“Miss Wallace, what would you like us to do?” Lee asked.
“After consultations with the program executive office, we’ve decided the best course of action is to allow SSI to fix these issues. At your cost, of course. Not the government’s. With the fallout from the implosion of Kalling Industries and the scandal surrounding them, it’s not in the CDF’s best interest to expose this publicly.”
“I completely understand. You will have the full cooperation of SSI in this matter,” Lee continued, her expression contrite and her tone of voice soft.
“Thank you,” Korra replied. “Mister Casey will be removed from this program immediately as well. Non-negotiable.”
Casey reared up in his seat, almost coming out of it as he snarled.
Lee held up her hand, and he stopped immediately.
Ah, so that’s who butters his bread. Kenneth sat mute and expressionless as possible.
“Until I’m satisfied progress is back on track, we’ll do a weekly briefing, coupled with walkthroughs of ships being retrofitted,” Korra said toward Lee, the dazzling smile back. “Do you have any questions or objections?”
“None.”
“I think we’re done, then.”
Damn, she’s good. Kenneth kept his face neutral as Casey and his cronies stood up and stormed out, leaving Lee to be diplomatic and shake hands with the government officials. He continued to the back of the group as the conference room cleared out, leaving him and Korra alone. Once the door slid shut, he smiled at her. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“The help.”
“I was just doing my job, Kenneth.”
“Will you take me back?” he blurted out, mouth overrunning his mind’s ability to think.
She laughed softly. “Is that because I’m wearing a dress and boots, or because I kicked your nemesis off the project or some combination of both?”
“Uh, all of the above?”
Korra reached out and took his large hands in hers. “You’re not a bad guy; we’re not right for each other. Mostly because you’re obsessed with work, and I want something more. I want children, a family, the white picket fence, and all that. You can’t give it to me, and I won’t ask you to stop doing your passion. But we can bury the hatchet and be friends if you’d like.”
“I’d like that very much,” Kenneth replied, realizing his face had turned blood red.
“Well, I’d best be going. We don’t want people talking.”
He gave her hand a final squeeze. “No, of course not. Thanks again.”
Korra smiled and turned to go.
Kenneth closed his eyes and thought about the choices he’d made so far. Why do I seem to self-sabotage most of my relationships, while I fixate on work? I suppose one of these days I should try to answer that. But for now… back to work. As he walked into the hallway and made his way through the maze of corridors and back toward his office, a gaggle of people in front of a holoprojector blocked his way. “What’s going on?” he asked toward the back of the crowd.
“Canaan News Network is reporting the winner in the election!”
Oh, that was today. I voted early.
“Hey, turn it up!” someone yelled.
The volume rose mid-sentence. “Live now to our studio with this announcement… President-Elect Fuentes will be making his victory speech within the next three hours. I repeat, Canaan News Network projects that Edwardo Fuentes has won the Presidency of the Terran Coalition.”
Whiskey, tango, foxtrot. The socialist won? Kenneth’s eyes bugged out of his head as he processed the headline. “Okay, the world’s gone mad.”
There was a knock on the window of Eldred’s office. Buried deep in writing a report, she missed it the first time. The second knock, louder and more insistent, got her attention. She glanced up to see the smiling face of David Cohen through the blinds. I wonder what he wants. “Come in, Colonel!” she yelled, loud enough to be heard through the closed door.
David twisted the handle and pushed the door in. “Good afternoon. I hope I’m not disturbing you?”
“Paperwork, you know? I hate doing paperwork.”
He grinned. “So do I. The military has five thousand forms, all due in triplicate. It’s one of the never-ending paradoxes of the universe. May I have a few minutes of your time?”
“Of course.”
He closed the door behind him and took a seat in one of the chairs directly in front of her desk. “Your performance on Gilead was exemplary. I wanted you to know that.”
“Thank you,” she said while her gaze was pointed downward. Depression still plagued her. I got a brave woman killed.
“It’s also not lost on me that you were deeply affected by Ms. Ramirez’s death.”
Eldred pursed her lips together and forced herself to maintain a neutral expression “Cost of doing business.”
“A business I think you’re not entirely interested in.”
“What are you getting at, Colonel?” Her voice took on a tone of rigid formality.
“The crisis of conscience you’re dealing with. I believe I have a solution.”
Her voice came out as a whisper. “What might that be?”
“Transfer to
the military arm of intelligence.”
“CDF Intel?”
David nodded and broke out into a smile. “Why not?”
“I’m a filthy civilian,” she said with a laugh. “I’ve been out of uniform for over twenty years. I spent my career here. Even if I did transfer, I’m going to be a what, sergeant at best?” As she spoke the words, her mind wandered. Even being a grunt might be worthwhile if I was contributing to the war effort and no longer doing things that tore me upside.
“Are you familiar with the CSV Oxford?” David asked, his mouth curling up into a grin. “I can see from your expression that you are.”
“Everyone in CIS knows about the near-mythical Oxford and Colonel Sinclair. He’s a legend.”
He folded his hands in front of him and stared at her. “I had a conversation with Sinclair about you. Mentioned your knack for fieldwork. I understand he’s going to be adding some capabilities to his team shortly.”
Is he saying what I think he’s saying? “Are you—"
“Yes. There’s a spot open for you, if you want it. Before you say anything, know that Sinclair runs a tight ship. He’ll bend the rules like any good intelligence officer, but he’s a decent and moral man. If you want to go back to operations that are more black and white—the Oxford is the place to be.”
She looked away, focusing on a point out on the operations floor. He’s offering me a way out. Eldred wasn’t sure if she even deserved it. “I’m not sure, Colonel. Major al-Lahim relies on my sources here. I’d be leaving him in a spot.”
“He’s fine with it.”
Her gaze immediately snapped back to his face. “You spoke with my boss?”
“Yes,” David replied with a small smile. “I outrank him.”
I’m not sure I like this cowboy fleet officer going behind me. Then again, I wouldn’t have done it myself. She crossed her arms in front of her and stared at him. “I appreciate the concern, Colonel, but—”
“Don’t dismiss it out of hand, Agent Eldred.” He spoke quietly, but in a tone that immediately struck her as forceful. “If you ignore your feelings and the conflict within you, it’ll get out of hand. You’ll be less effective and put yourself in harm's way, at the same time putting others in harm's way. Better to make adjustments now.”
“I don’t know if they’d want someone with my record.”
David broke into a broad grin. “I doubt anyone in intelligence as long as Sinclair has done it without any collateral damage. You’ll be fine.”
She harrumphed. “So I’m just as bad as the rest of them, in other words?”
He sighed and leaned forward. “We’ve all got things in our past in this job that we’re not proud of. We’ve discussed this a few times in the last couple of days. I saw a good person trying to do what’s right. You expressed to me that you were tired of this life, so I tried to help. I apologize if I’ve offended you.”
As he stood up and turned to leave, a voice in Eldred’s mind thundered, Don’t let him go! This might be your last chance! “Colonel, please wait.”
David stopped and faced her. “Yes?”
“You’re right. I do want out, but I never saw a way to get out and still do what I felt was my duty to the Terran Coalition.”
“I suspect you’ll be able to do both with Sinclair and his team.”
She broke into a smile of her own. “Okay. How do I sign up?”
“Leave it to me. I’ll make the final connections. Get your gear together and be onboard before the Lion departs.”
“That’s it?” It can’t be so simple.
“Yes,” David replied as he flashed a grin and walked out the door.
Left to her thoughts, Eldred sat quietly, pondering where her life would take her now before she started to collate and file her remaining reports. I’d better finish up and go see al-Lahim. He’s going to be shocked.
31
The shuttle ride back to the Lion of Judah was uneventful, and David mostly kept to himself. With the pilot focused on flying the ship and landing successfully, his mind was free to wander. Aibek and the commando team, led by Master Chief MacDonald, sat in the rear compartment.
Did we help these people? The question bothered him on so many levels. Gilead, once the pretty wrapping was peeled back, was akin to a failed state. It dawned on him that it might take integration into the Terran Coalition to sufficiently bring the planet back from the swamp it occupied. Not my call; things like this get left up to the politicians. Our job is to execute orders.
As the craft slid to a stop in the VIP shuttle bay, David thanked the warrant officer who flew it and made his way to the nearest gravlift. He briefly considered going straight to the bridge but realized it was high time to check in with General MacIntosh. Hanson can enjoy his moment in the sun a few minutes longer. He chuckled at the thought and walked out of the lift toward his day cabin, an office, and small bunk all in one right off the bridge. The lights came on automatically, and he dropped into the comfortable chair behind his desk.
A few minutes later, after setting up the vidlink, MacIntosh appeared on the screen of his tablet. “Good morning, at least out your way, Colonel.”
“Afternoon in your neck of space, I think, sir.”
“Coming up on dinner time,” MacIntosh replied with a slight smile. “I’ve read over both your and the official CIS report from the Gilead caper. Remarkably similar. Almost too similar.”
David sighed. “There was a desire on the part the Gilead’s CIS station chief not to highlight Agent Eldred’s—”
MacIntosh cut him off in mid-sentence. “Rogue operation?”
“I think I’d characterize it as an informal investigation, sir.”
That prompted a laugh out of the older general. “Of course you would, Colonel. Another case of all’s well that ends well?”
“Honestly, sir? I’m disappointed in how it ended. Despite unmasking Feldt’s operatives within the Gileadean government, from the outside looking in, I don’t think there’s much hope for the planet to turn itself around without outside help. To say it’s corrupt is an understatement.”
“The CDF isn’t the galaxies’ policeman, Colonel. I think I’ve told you that before.”
David’s brow bunched together, and he narrowed his eyes. “Yes, sir.”
“Still, I appreciate how you try. It’s a good trait.”
“Has there been any blowback from Gilead?”
“Oh, you mean for a commando team staging an assault on their soil without authorization? One minor detail?”
David felt his face turn a bit red, and a sheepish grin appeared on his face. “That would be the one, sir.”
“Surprisingly, no. Probably because whoever’s left in the underworld power structure is happy to have Feldt gone. It’s one of the problems with dealing with organized crime. If you take out the top guy, the little fish start fighting until one takes over.”
“What you’re saying, then, is we’ll have to deal with this again?”
“CBI and CIS will, Colonel. The military’s job is to fight the League, not engage in quasi-law enforcement actions. I, for one, can’t stand when the lines get blurred.”
“With respect, sir, putting down bad guys is putting down bad guys. Feldt and his crew are worse than the League, if you ask me.”
“And connected into League intelligence, which is the only reason I allowed this op. Now, I’m sure you're anxious for new orders?”
“Quite, sir,” David replied as he pursed his lips together. “I think we’re ready to put Gilead behind us.”
“Good. Then head back to Canaan. We’ll integrate the Lion into the next battlegroup heading back to League space. We’ll be looking at invading our first mid-level League world shortly.”
“One planet at a time, eh, sir?”
“Yes, it’s being called the planet-hopping campaign by the joint chiefs planning board.”
David cracked a grin. “I look forward to finally ending this war.”
“As
do we all, Colonel. See you in a day or so. Godspeed, son.”
“Godspeed, sir,” David replied as the screen went dark. He set the tablet aside and glanced around the room. The rhythm of battle, while sustaining, leads to a period where, when I come off the high of combat, I’m forced to confront the never-ending nature of the war. Pushing the thoughts down, he stood up and made sure his uniform sweater and khaki pants were straight before walking out, toward the bridge.
The two Marine sentries on watch outside of the hatch to the command center raised their hands to their brows in salute.
David returned the salutes crisply and pulled his cover on—the specialized Lion of Judah ballcap—as he walked through the hatch onto the bridge. The space hummed with activity, with a couple of dozen crewmen and officers strapped into their stations.
“Colonel on the bridge!” Master Chief Tinetariro barked.
Those not strapped in sprang to their seats and saluted David, which he returned with the practiced and nearly automatic motion of his hand coming up to his brow. “As you were.”
Returning to the bridge and seeing those under his command again was a welcome sight for David. When all else fails, retreating to the customs and courtesies of the CDF delays the depression, at least for a time. He made his way to the front of the space, where the CO and XO chairs sat, side by side.
Hanson was seated in the CO’s chair and grinned at him as he walked up.
“Major Hanson, I have the conn.”
“Aye aye, sir. Colonel Cohen has the conn,” Hanson replied as he stood.
David slid into the CO’s chair and immediately felt back at home. Where I belong. “Status?”
“All systems normal, sir. All crew accounted for. We had a few disciplinary incidents from shore leave but nothing major. I handled them all with non-judicial punishments.”
“Excellent, Major.”
Ruth turned around from her station. “If I may, sirs… Major Hanson makes a fine command duty officer.”
“Wow, high praise there, Major,” David said with a grin.
The deep voice of Aibek interrupted them. “Did Hanson pay you fifty credits ahead of time, Lieutenant?”
