The command chair that Dayton earned is across the river. He shook his head, disgusted with himself. Across the river. Here I’ve been trying to help with unification, and I think something stupid like that. We’re not supposed to be two, we’re supposed to be one. Damn it, Darius.
“Something wrong there, flyboy?” Rory asked, shaking Darius from his selfish thoughts.
Darius took the short walk to the negotiation table and slid into the seat next to his friend, though he dared not make eye contact.
“I don’t know. Nothing and everything,” he replied. “I’m worried that one thing could mean the difference between reconciliation and isolation. It could be something as big as my demand that the crews resign. Maybe something as little as that chair over there. That reminder of Eriksen.”
Rory nodded. “It’s all a scary idea, I won’t kid you on that. But we’re here, right? And he’s coming. That’s got to count for something.”
“He could just be coming to tell us to go to hell.”
“I don’t think the colonel’s a fool, Darius. He’s not going to let this whole thing go to hell over a chair.”
“But he might over the idea of giving up control.”
The silence that answered him only reinforced the doubt that was firmly entrenched in his mind. With every passing minute, the wall built up, and he feared that if it continued to grow, all hope of resolution would slip from reach.
You can’t take back what you’ve done, Darius. Even if you pull the demand off the table, the damage is done. Colonel Dayton can’t trust you anymore.
Voices echoing from beyond the bridge heralded the impending arrival of the delegation. Darius straightened up and tried his best to put on a stone front, though underneath it was a mass of nerves tearing at his skin from within. The sweat that slicked his palms was not a pleasant addition to the equation, either.
“Please, take a seat,” Don urged as he escorted Colonel Dayton and company onto the bridge.
Dayton walked toward the seat at the head of the table with measured, precise steps. His stride faltered for a moment as his eyes caught sight of the command chair, dragged from its perch up front. He shook his head and instead selected the chair next to it. Dayton motioned for Calvin to sit in Eriksen’s former seat, and the two remaining delegates took seats to the right of the colonel.
Yeah, that chair was a bad idea, Darius thought. Another brick joined the already formidable wall in his mind.
Once the Michael contingent had settled in, the two attorneys took their seats to the right of Darius. The familiar shuffle of paper and clicking of pens around the circle was accompanied by Don Abernathy clearing his throat.
“Thank you for coming, Colonel,” he said. “You as well, Lieutenant, Doctor Taylor, and Mr. McLaughlin. Welcome to Gabriel. As we left things after the previous session, your proposal had not yet been submitted, Colonel. Would you care to present it now?”
“Not as such,” Dayton replied.
Darius felt his heart skip and then quicken.
No proposal. Shit, I blew it. He’s going to walk.
“Very well,” Don responded, his voice even despite the colonel’s rejection. “How would you like to proceed?”
The colonel’s chair emitted a long squeak as he leaned back, tenting his fingers in front of his lips.
“It’s a risky proposal to say the least,” he began. “We’ve barely started our work here, and already we’ve had a major incident that has taken away both the confidence and security from the populace. The cohesiveness between the crews is obviously nonexistent, and from what I can see, almost as bad internally with Gabriel’s crew.”
An understatement, Colonel.
“And yet, through it all, one man comes up with this crazy idea to dissolve the one remaining functional unit, and call for an election from the very people whose confidence has been shaken. I’m not inclined to think that this is a good idea. What I’d like to see is a strong leader that takes the colony into its future.”
I knew it. Darius bit his lip but kept from showing any other signs of his disappointment.
“Piled on top is this notion of dismissing the entire service corps from their assignments. This is something that I cannot abide by,” Dayton continued, shaking his head vigorously. “I have to ask you, with all due respect, Mr. Owens, what you were thinking when you made that proposal of yours.”
He was taken aback by this question. Darius had fully expected Dayton to continue his explanation of Darius’s failure. He stuttered for a moment, searching for the answer.
“A fresh slate across the board,” he finally replied. “A do-over, if you will.”
Dayton nodded. His chair squeaked as he catapulted forward and rose quickly to his feet. “It’s that part that I agree with,” he added.
What? For a moment Darius thought he had gasped the word aloud, but then realized he had held his surprise in check.
“I had to think long and hard, and listen to my clear consciences,” he said as he motioned to his companions. “I had to make sure that I could see past pride and pain to get at the heart of the matter. So at this time, I would like to make the counter proposal, on behalf of Michael.”
Dayton cleared his throat and picked up the pad in front of him, holding it nearly at arms’ length as he read from the page. “We accept the proposal to hold an open colonial election for the position of Governor, based on a vote of all colonists of at least eighteen years of age who wish to participate.”
Darius stopped breathing for a moment, and the rhythm of his heart could be felt through every bone in his body. Wait, what?
“For this position,” he continued, “we do not agree that candidates should be limited to only civilians. However, to avoid a possible junta from arising in the aftermath, and in consideration of Mr. Owens’ proposal to disband the military contingent, all service members will be required to resign no later than the inauguration date, to be set at a later time. This includes the Marines that were evacuated from Earth during the skirmish at Laramie.
“We do not, however, agree that there should be a complete void of military service. Any person of legal age and able body and mind may volunteer for a new colonial Militia, to be commanded by an officer appointed by the Governor. We have come up with a list of restrictions of use for the Militia, which we would be more than happy to give the representatives of Michael time to review. In a nutshell they will be around only for protection and crisis response.”
An election. Disbanding the crews. He… he’s giving in?
Dayton glanced up from the paper briefly, seeming to gauge the reactions of those at the table. “In exchange for these concessions, we ask for the following non-negotiable clause. All resource distribution must be equal between both sides of the colony for a period of no less than three years, except in the case where distribution of a specific resource will cause an extreme hardship for the party giving up the resource. This includes, but is not limited to, timber, minerals, human resources, and housing.”
A stunned silence descended upon the bridge of the mighty ship. Darius exchanged disbelieving looks with his cohorts. As the seconds passed he waited for Dayton to make some outrageous addition to the negotiation, or to reveal that his words were nothing more than a cruel hoax, but the colonel stood fast and waited.
“I know this is probably a little bit of a shock to you all, and you may need some time to absorb it. There is one last thing I would like to bring to the table, however, and this is directed at Mr. Owens.” Dayton placed the pad back on the table in front of him and stared directly into Darius’s eyes. The cold, stern demeanor of the colonel melted away in nearly an instant. “I would be honored if you would assist me in planning a memorial for Raphael. I think that we still, to this day, haven’t come to terms with exactly what the loss of that ship meant to us all, and we need to face that. Sooner rather than later.”
Yet another surprise by Dayton left Darius speechless and unable to move for several mom
ents. When his mind finally caught up, he slowly rose and walked around the table to Dayton with his hand extended. It was met in kind, and they shared a firm handshake. “The honor would be mine, Colonel.”
Dayton clapped his free hand around Darius’s and shook solidly, his smile poking out from behind the shaggy wall of fur that ringed his mouth. “Thank you, Mr. Owens. We’ll take our leave so that you can discuss the proposal with your colleagues.”
He then stepped back, motioned, and Calvin, Dr. Taylor, and Lieutenant Ceretti all vacated the bridge in a calm, swift order, with Dayton himself bringing up the rear. Darius let out a deep sigh of relief once they disappeared from sight.
“What was that?” Rory asked quietly.
“Victory, I think,” Don remarked. “Other than the proposition of the Militia, I don’t think he made a change to a single one of our proposals.”
“No, no, there’s got to be a catch. After that fuss he made last time?”
“No catch,” Darius added. “You don’t know what honor means to this man. He won’t back out.”
Fred cleared his throat. “So what are we waiting for? Let’s accept the offer. Unless anyone here really has a problem with his militia idea.”
This time the silence that followed was a sound that Darius treasured. No awkwardness lingered, only an unspoken agreement that the colonel’s plan was not unpalatable, and they could refocus their attention on directing the settlement.
But one question remained for Darius, and it left him with a deep void inside.
What do I do now?
Calvin McLaughlin
13 May, Year of Landing, 12:56
River Islands, 1 mile east of the colony
“Is everyone ready?” Cal asked Hunter.
The lieutenant tugged at Cal’s freshly cleaned flight suit, picking at one particular wrinkle near his right shoulder that would not smooth out. “Yeah, man. Everything’s in place. As long as you’ve done your part, we should be good to go. We’re just waiting for the signal.”
“I planted the seed with Dayton. It’s not like I could spell it all out for him, though. He’d definitely take it wrong.” Cal tugged at the collar of his suit. The day was unexpectedly hot, and even his Texas roots weren’t enough to shrug off the sweltering heat trapped by the long-limbed garment.
“Well, it’ll be pretty powerful if we pull it off. Stop fiddling with your neck and hold still.”
Hunter brushed down his arms and made a slight adjustment to the right shoulder, grinning when whatever issue was bothering him had finally been resolved. “There. Now you look like one of us. Try to keep up, okay? Dayton wanted you to blend in with us to make the wall of blue look bigger.”
Darius snickered and rolled his eyes at the display of the lieutenant fixing Cal’s shirt. The staff he bore with the colors of the United States was gripped firmly in his meaty hands.
“Don’t worry. I think I know how to fit in by now,” Cal joked.
“That you do,” Darius added.
Hunter nodded as the other crew members arrived and began to fall in. Other than the trio taking place at the head of the column, there was no order as to how they filled their rank; Gabriel crewmen fell in beside their counterparts from Michael as they arrived. Even Lieutenant Traci Josephson joined the file around the middle. Her face had healed well, leaving only a couple nasty scars from where deadly claws had narrowly missed tearing her face to shreds. Gone too was the cast on her forearm from where the Montoya’s Grizzly bear had landed a fierce blow, cracking her limb as she had fought to protect Elaine.
Montoya’s Grizzly. Named for its first victim. And it’s had a few more since then. The very thought made Cal want to scream. Just call it a damned Reaper bear. Don’t play down her memory by naming a horrible, murderous animal after her. She was a good person. Why do we have to hang this curse on her name?
He caught Josephson glaring at him, and he pushed the thought from his mind, turning instead to the front of the column and away from her condemning eyes. He knew that she would take issue with him being allowed to march in file with the other service members. The fact that Colonel Dayton considered Cal to be part of his crew did not matter to Josephson.
Mercifully, it was only another minute before Hunter called the detail to attention and began their march around the grove of trees that obscured them from the waiting crowd of colonists. Cal was overwhelmed for a moment by the number of faces he saw when they emerged into the field. It seemed that every colonist from Michael was present, as well as some from Gabriel as well. He was aware that some families had chosen to take the ferry across the previous night and take advantage of Colonel Dayton’s offer of hospitality for the night if they meant to attend the service. But after surveying the crowd, he figured that many had to have come over throughout the morning as well. His quick estimate put the total of civilians in attendance at over two thousand.
Colonel Dayton had taken effective command of both crews, and he had ordered Gabriel’s entire crew to attend. With Cal at the head of the column with Hunter, and a few volunteers from the Marines who hitched a ride on Michael, the detail numbered exactly eighty, with Dayton included.
The exact number of the combined crews. At least, the exact number before the massacre.
Hunter led the company to a position along the river, slightly offset from where Colonel Dayton stood before the gathered masses, a small gray megaphone sitting at his feet. He ordered them to turn left, bringing them to face the people, and placing the River Islands at their backs. By the vote of the colonists, the meandering river had gained a new moniker: Fairweather River.
Named after Doctor Taylor’s friend who was assassinated while in stasis. One of the senior researchers for Project Columbus. Dad’s friend.
Cal had expected vocal resistance to the idea of naming the river after men who were accused traitors, but he had only heard of two people that were bothered by the concept. As he polled his fellow settlers in the days leading up to the final negotiation session, he found that there were few questions about the alleged treason, and more about each namesake; it was clear that naming the river after a destroyed ship was not favorable. The vote was very close between Benedict and Fairweather, however. Fairweather had won by just fifteen votes.
From the corner of his eye Cal caught a glimpse of Alexis, standing near the front and center of the gathered citizens. Her beauty captivated him, even at this distance, and he found it hard to keep his head still. He had to concentrate on staying in unison with the uniformed wall around him. Yet he could not help but notice that she did not look at Dayton, but rather the stony, treed islands beyond.
Colonel Dayton had selected this spot for Raphael’s memorial for the simple reason that the ship’s radio beacon had landed on the second, larger island. It was a small gesture, as no one could see or touch the beacon without fording the swirling torrent, but even at that it held meaning for anyone who knew of Raphael’s fate. For Cal, it held another meaning; it was the place where he and Alexis had their first date on Demeter, and where Darius Owens risked his own life to tell of his plight. Cal had happier plans for this site some day, but that would have to wait. He watched Colonel Dayton pull a few folded pages out of his pocket and unfurl them.
“Friends and citizens,” he started, speaking into the megaphone. “Those who traveled on Gabriel and Michael through the empty void of space, as refugees and servicemen. We all have gathered here for the purpose of honoring the lives lost when our sister ship, Raphael, suffered a tragic and catastrophic failure. It is not, nor may it ever be known, what happened to cause such a mighty and proud ship to be destroyed with the loss of over two thousand lives. Lives of mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, children and officers alike.
“They were innocent, and they were brave. They were strangers, and they were friends. All of them were family, not of blood but of spirit. Like each of us standing here today they embarked on a journey to a new world. A world that was completely unknown to t
hem, a world that may not have existed for all they knew. Yet they still took the path of faith as all of us did, leaving all behind and leaping skyward away from the ravages of war.
“Their faith and their memory should be honored. Though their lives may have been cut short, their spirit and courage will endure in each of you for generations to come. Live your lives in honor of those that were lost before you, both on Earth and Demeter. Keep your loved ones close, look after your neighbors, and live in honor and unity with all around you.”
Now!
“Honor and Unity!” Cal’s voice rang out over the shrub-dotted field, backed with the power of seventy eight other voices standing by his side, including those of Darius and Hunter.
The chorus seemed to catch Colonel Dayton off guard, and he paused for a minute, regarding his honor detail with bewilderment. Cal suppressed a smile, but inside he felt a moment of elation as his plan to demonstrate the crews’ newfound unity had worked. The fact that he was able to pull it off without an order from Dayton made the concept that much sweeter.
That should put an end to any doubts he had about unification working, he thought proudly.
Colonel Dayton turned back to the crowd and spoke once more, though his voice cracked for a brief moment. “May God watch over them in Heaven, and may He watch over the citizens of Concordia. Amen.”
As Dayton crossed himself and the crowd muttered an “Amen,” Cal’s jaw dropped. He had not been aware that the colony had been named. Cal knew that Dayton and the two lawyers from Gabriel had met two days earlier, but he had been under the impression that the only business they had to conduct was that of resource distribution.
Project Columbus: Omnibus Page 84
