by Lance Berry
Chapter 7
Early in the morning, Gilda managed to sneak back home safely as planned. Later on, she borrowed her father’s AirKar and cruised into the main town of Garrison proper with Travis. They spent the better part of the day strolling around town, eating at a couple of diners, and finally bought a pack of condoms. They headed home late in the afternoon, kissing and holding hands happily.
As they pulled into Aqueduct Road, Travis was surprised to see an AirKar parked in front of his house. As Gilda pulled her father’s ‘Kar in next to it, Travis was elated to see Aunt Lisa sitting on his doorstep. She smiled at him and stood as he almost leaped out of the ‘Kar and ran over to her.
He threw his arms around her, crushing her in a bear hug, which she lovingly returned. “How are you, honey?” she asked as she kissed him on the cheek. “I’m doing great! It’s so good to see you,” He said as he looked at her a moment, almost as if to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, then remembered that Gilda was with him. “Oh, this is my…my friend, Gilda. I’ve told you about her.”
“Yes, yes you have. Hello Gilda. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” She offered her hand, and Gilda accepted gratefully. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you too,” she replied. “Travis always talks about you. I feel like I know you already myself.”
“Same here,” Lisa nodded, then turned back to Travis. “I just got here,” she replied to the question she knew was coming. “Fortunately, it was just a few minutes ago. I would have waited inside, but Jack never gave me the pass-code.”
Travis shook his head in annoyance. “Yeah, well…you know my father.”
A curious look came over Lisa’s features as she nodded slowly. Travis couldn’t place it, but he felt as if he had somehow said something wrong. “I’m…surprised to see you here,” he said. “Pleasantly surprised,” he offered awkwardly, after a moment.
Lisa simply nodded again. “Why don’t we go inside,” she said evenly. Travis looked at her curiously and shrugged his shoulders in deference. He stepped up to the thumbprint key plate, pressed his thumb against it and with a slight –KLACK- the door popped open.
Travis stepped aside, gesturing for the ladies to enter first. He followed them in, closing the door behind them.
Lisa proceeded without halting to the stairs leading to the den. “Let’s go downstairs, Travis. Gilda can wait for us here.” It was an order without officially being an order: no overwhelmingly commanding tone to it, but a simple, irrevocable statement of fact. Travis found he was powerless before it, and gestured for Gilda to sit on the couch. She squeezed his hand once, then did as asked. Travis had to hurry to catch up to Lisa…
“Screen on, find Allied News Network,” Lisa said evenly. As the computer sprang to life, she started to take the seat in front of it, but changed her mind at the last moment, offering it to Travis instead. He looked at her in confusion as he sat, but quickly swiveled his head around as the newscaster announced: “–continuing our around-the-clock coverage of the 185th Division’s defeat in the Vega star-sector, and the ongoing battle at Sirius.
“At eight-fifty this morning, Earth Standard Time, UEF’s 185th Division–a conjoined fleet consisting of more than one hundred-fifty various-sized Heavy Cruisers–engaged a fleet of Calvorian battlecruisers in the Vega star-sector, no more than approximately twenty-six light-years away from Earth.
“It is believed by UEF Intelligence that the Calvorian fleet was waiting to meet with a connecting attack force, which would have then made its way into Earth space itself, in an attempt to finally subdue our planet. The first portion of the enemy fleet was intercepted by the 185th, which quickly and decidedly began to overpower the enemy forces, destroying or severely crippling many of their ships.
“Things seemed to be going well in the battle, until the second part of the planned attack force–more than two hundred battlecruisers and at least five dreadnoughts–entered the theater of combat.”
On the screen, a comparative elevation schematic of a Calvorian battle cruiser appeared, next to that of a UEF Heavy Cruiser. The two were soon joined by another graphic: a Calvorian dreadnought, which was nearly twice the size of the Earth ship.
“As some of our viewers know, UEF Heavy Cruisers–the largest and most powerful class in the fleet–and Calvorian battlecruisers are roughly the same size. Calvorian dreadnoughts, however, are almost double the size of the largest Heavy Cruiser. Whereas standard enemy battlecruisers are armed with weapons producing a conjoined beam of matter and antimatter, the combination of our ships’ laser cannons and antimatter torpedo launchers allow for a roughly equal match of power. Dreadnoughts, though, possess nearly twice the armament of a standard battlecruiser and nearly double the shielding, making for a formidable opponent.”
The vessel graphics moved out of frame as the face of the handsome, dark-haired newscaster returned to the screen. “In almost less time than it takes to tell, UEF forces were quickly overwhelmed. The majority of the 185th Division has been destroyed, with no known survivors. Calvorians tend to be very thorough, and unless taking captives, they are known to believe in leaving no living opponents behind on the field of battle. Since the Vega system is now clear of conflict, A.N.N. has dispatched a shuttle to the battle site. We have live footage, which we feel we must warn our audience, will make for disturbing viewing by any young children.”
The image on the screen changed.
Travis sucked in air at the sight: mangled, twisted wreckage of what were once mile-and-a-half long ships, drifting helplessly amidst the blackness of space. They looked almost like broken, discarded toys, dumped thoughtlessly across a floor by some uncaring child. He felt Lisa’s hand gently squeeze his shoulder as the newscaster continued:
“Among those ships in the 185th, currently known destroyed, are the Sapphire, the Judiciary, the April, the Mohammed, the Samurai, the Caprice, and a host of other ships…”
Travis felt a chill shoot through his body, and he shuddered slightly. Lisa squeezed his shoulder a little tighter. The newscaster went on to give some other information about how the Calvorian fleet had managed to push its way forward toward Earth, but was intercepted by a massive UEF fleet at Sirius…but Travis didn’t hear any of it.
He looked up at Lisa, and saw her eyes welling with tears. He stood and took her into an embrace. She gently grasped the back of his head, leaning it against her shoulder in an attempt to offer some type of comfort. But he wasn’t sure he needed it. He didn’t know what he needed anymore. For the third time in his life, he had lost a parent…yet this time, he felt utterly numb.
He had no idea where to go from here.
Chapter 8
More than 70,000 lives were estimated to have been lost at what came to be known as The Battle of Vega. Mass funerals were held separately for the personnel of each individual Cruiser lost. Sites were chosen based on what state or country the majority of each ship’s crew hailed from. Although Jack Richards and his son lived in upstate New York, the funeral for the crew of the Samurai took place in San Diego, at the Fort Champion training center.
Travis and Lisa attended, and at his request, Gilda was allowed to go as well. When Travis had asked Mister Ramirez for his permission to let his daughter attend, the elder man gave it readily. He had always liked Travis, and though he didn’t tell the young man, in spite of the night he had nearly caught them in the act, he saw the potential for a sturdy, future son-in-law. When Travis made the official request to the Offices of Civil Relations in charge of funeral arrangements, he simply listed Gilda as his girlfriend/future fiancée.
It was a clear, beautiful summer morning in June, and as the stretchlimo AirKar pulled onto the base, Travis couldn’t help notice somberly that the last funeral he attended was also on a beautiful summer day.
It should rain, he thought to himself. This isn’t a party. It should rain.
Lisa and Gilda sat on either side of him, each holding his hand. He looked at Lisa, who stared out the window at the dozens and dozens of
soldiers lining up in preparation for the ceremony. For the first time, he noticed wrinkles under her sea-green eyes. He glanced at her hair, noticing a small shock of gray in the back. Had that always been there? Had he simply never noticed, over the years? Of course, she had aged in the years he had known her–but the change must have been so gradual, so stealthy, that he had never seen her as anything but the young, vibrant woman who used to sit him on her lap and blow raspberries onto his belly to get him to cheer up. Someday, he abruptly realized, he would have to attend her funeral as well. It was a thought he didn’t appreciate having; it unsettled his stomach to the point where, for just a moment, he thought he might actually throw up.
He pivoted his head away from her to look at Gilda. Like Lisa, she was also dressed in a black skirt and mourning shirt–but her body was firm, young and full of life. Her dark hair fell like a thick wave of ebon silk over her shoulders, and her brown eyes beautifully reflected the sunlight, which streamed in. In an odd way, she had never looked more appealing in her life, and as she crossed her legs, he felt himself stir below. He was embarrassed by this, and hoped no one had noticed.
The limo pulled up to a spot about a yard behind the main stage, where several top brass would make speeches extolling the virtues of the recently deceased, and where Travis himself–as the son of the Samurai’s captain–was expected to say a few words about his father. In the week between the announcement of the fleet’s loss and the date of the funeral, Travis had tried a couple dozen times to write a respectful, earnest eulogy for his father. Each time, to his private shame, he had failed miserably.
During his attempts, he had wondered to himself; had he truly hated his father so much that he couldn’t even find a kind phrase to say about the man? Had his heart been devoid of love for so long, that absolutely no fond memories could be recollected? As the trio stepped out of the ‘Kar, Travis sighed quietly…there was no way in the world that he could bow out of this, gracefully or otherwise. Eulogies for a captain were always given by whatever son or daughter was currently in the military. It was a decades-old tradition. Even though Travis didn’t yet serve, it was his duty as Jack Richards’ only surviving heir, to give the final commencement before the symbolic burial. All eyes would be on him, and he had to say something.
This was going to be a disaster. Travis just knew it.
A tall blond man dressed in UEF high-ranking gray, with at least a dozen medals covering the left side of his chest, approached the trio. He was accompanied by a short auburn-haired woman dressed in training officers’ blue. They stopped just in front of Lisa, and the man removed his hat as he offered his hand to her. “General Tim Wintemberg, at your service. This is my attaché, Lieutenant Rachel Hessing.”
Lisa smiled graciously as she accepted and shook the general’s hand. “Lisa Pfeiffer. Pleased to meet you.”
“You’re Captain Richards’ sister-in-law, correct? I knew Jack for about umpteen years. He spoke of you often.”
“Thank you, General.”
Wintemberg nodded and moved to stand in front of Travis. He instantly snapped to attention, saluting the surprised young man. “You’re obviously Jack’s son, Travis. I can see the family resemblance,” he joked, trying to ease the somber mood. Travis smiled briefly in return, then adopted an at-attention posture as well. “Travis Xavier Rand, sir!” the boy’s voice boomed. “I intend to follow my father’s footsteps into the military soon, sir!”
General Wintemberg dropped the salute and gave the boy a proud, appreciative once-over. “Is that so? You’re not quite old enough though, are you? Have you applied to a training institution yet?”
“I’ve already been accepted as an early recruit to the Sanderson School, sir! I begin in the fall,” he replied, never dropping his salute or changing posture.
The general briefly ran his fingers through his slicked-back hair and smiled in satisfaction. “Very nice. Sanderson has some of the finest training facilities and most disciplined cadres on the planet. I’m sure you’ll do well, Mister Rand. At-ease.”
Travis assumed at-ease, but gestured to Gilda as the general looked her over as well. “My fiancée, sir. Gilda Ramirez.”
The general took her hand in his and kissed it in gentlemanly fashion. “You must be very proud of your fiancé, Ms. Ramirez.”
Gilda glanced at Travis and smiled. “I certainly am, sir.”
Wintemberg released her hand and looked at Travis again. “Don’t forget, UEF gives out appreciation stipends for couples who have children within the first two years of marriage. An incentive to produce future soldiers to the cause.” He cleared his throat and focused a more serious gaze on the young man. “Now, Travis…the ceremony will commence with a few words by myself. I’ll then introduce you, and you can give your father’s eulogy. It doesn’t matter how long it is. If you’re nervous, take as much time as you need. No rush.” He then focused on all three as he continued, “After Travis’ eulogy, there will be a reading of the names of all the Samurai’s personnel who died aboard ship. The names will be read by a member from each of their families. There were seven hundred and thirty-two men and women aboard ship, so the reading is estimated to take about an hour and a half. After that, a Diviner from the Nondenominational Church of the All will give a final blessing over the oversized flag draped across the field,” he pointed to a field of grass behind a large bunker across the base as he said this last, “and then I’ll come to the podium once more and make closing comments. Any questions?”
There were none. General Wintemberg headed in one direction, and Lieutenant Hessing led the trio past the stage and to the center section of the front row of seats. As Hessing departed, Travis couldn’t help noticing that almost all eyes in the first three or four rows were on them. Actually, on him. There were several indistinct murmurs, and the occasional pointed finger. Obviously, because of the seats they had been placed in, Travis was now known by everyone in close proximity. He wondered how long it would take for news that the famous Captain Richards’ son was present.
He wondered what they would be murmuring after that selfsame son failed to give a proper, fitting eulogy.
Almost thirty minutes later, following a playing of “Taps”, a Missing Man flyover by a squadron of DogFighter Craft (DFC), and a rendition of “Amazing Grace” on bagpipe accompanied by flute (a strange combination, but somehow it worked), General Wintemberg took the stage. He approached the podium, solemnly leaned his hands on either side, and looked unflinchingly out into the crowd…
“One week ago today, the crews of more than a hundred Heavy Cruisers showed the enemy what the name United Earth Force truly stands for. It was a fight which cost us dearly, as we lost over seventy thousand of our brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, sons and daughters, to the unforgiving cold of space. Yet in the end, they did not die in vain. A fleet of our best and brightest intercepted the enemy within the Sirius starsystem and with swift and decided force, turned that enemy back. Our troops did not permit them to advance one more sector closer to our home world. Our territory. Because of them, and all that fell in the cause, our home soil remains inviolate.”
All at once, a roar of cheers and applause arose from the multitude of military and grieving families. Before he knew it, Travis was applauding as well, his cheers rising to meet the others’.
After almost a full minute of this, General Wintemberg finally held up his hands. The assemblage fell silent, and he continued, “In the aftermath, we were sadly able to collect few of the bodies. Yet we hold this mass not only in tribute, not only in remembrance, but in celebration. In celebration of the type of people the fallen were. In celebration of the understanding of the sacrifice they endured for us, and the fact that one day, we will repay the debt we owe, pound for pound. We will one day make the enemy truly reconsider their attempts at conquest, and let them know that they had better stick to their own soil…or else.”
Another cheer rose up from the crowd, almost louder than the first. As he applaud
ed, Travis realized he had never been more proud to be a citizen of UEF than at that moment.
The general waited patiently this time, until the crowd chose to fall silent once more. “As our brothers and sisters are doing across the world today, so do we remember a specific lost ship and her fallen crew. We recognize the sacrifice of the Heavy Cruiser Samurai, and the gallant crew that were her charge. And now, to give a final eulogy on the ship’s commanding officer…may I present Captain Jack Richards’ son, Travis Rand.”
The applause that greeted Travis as he headed toward the stage was polite, respectful and measured. The young man arrived at the podium, relieved beyond measure that he actually stood taller than the dais itself. For what to him seemed an interminable amount of time, he stared anxiously out into the sea of people. Finally, he managed to summon the courage to speak…
“My mother’s name was Violet. When I was four years old, she was killed aboard a transport that was ambushed by the Calvorians while on its way to Luna. For a while after that, I had nightmares about her death. I remember late one night, I woke up from one of my nightmares, and left my bedroom to look for my father. He wasn’t there. Still frightened, not sure whether I was dreaming or not, I tiptoed down the stairs in our house, and overheard his voice coming from the den downstairs. The fourth stair down always had a creak to it, so I had to be extra careful to avoid it, so I could be a typically nosey kid and eavesdrop on my father’s conversation.
“It turned out he was on the vid-com with my mother’s sister, my aunt. Just before Mom’s death, my father had only recently become captain of the Samurai, and I overheard him telling my aunt that he was having a hard time finding a reason to continue in that position. He told her that he had gone so far in his field, risen to where he was, because of my mother. He wanted to protect our planet not because it was the right thing to do, not because it was his job, not even just for me…but because he loved Violet. Without her, he saw almost no reason to go on.
