“God mostly. Sometimes long talks with friends who serve. Every once in a while, a few drinks out of that bottle I mentioned.”
“I’ll try to remember that,” Justin replied. “I suppose I’m not much on God, so I’ll pick something else. Just, ah, not the bottle.”
“At least not while on duty.”
To Justin’s surprise, Whatley didn’t seem interested in judging his beliefs or lack thereof. With all I’ve heard about how old-school this guy is, I figured he’d rip me a new one for that too. The attitude change threw him for a loop.
“Why are you in the ready room?” Whatley asked, as if changing the subject.
Justin forced a smile. “I couldn’t think of anything else to do, and I didn’t want to be around other people. Going back to my cabin wasn’t appealing, either.”
“Let me give you some advice.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Get up, swallow any pride, hurt, or whatever else is bothering you, get down to the officers’ mess, and enjoy a meal with your fellow pilots. Talk to them about good times and bad. Remember the men and women who died today. Then get ready to get up tomorrow and kill some damn Leaguers.” Whatley finished the sentence with a big grin. “Remember… those bastards killed our friends. It’s not our job to judge them. That’s God’s job. Our job is to arrange a face-to-face meeting as soon as possible.”
Justin hadn’t heard the phrase in a long time. His father had said it about the Saurians. “Yes, sir.”
Whatley stood and slapped Justin on the shoulder. “Now get out of here.”
“Yes, sir,” Justin replied as he put his tablet down and climbed out of the chair. “Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t think for a moment I’m letting up on you. I will push you harder than anyone ever has. I demand perfection in the cockpit and everywhere else. Because I believe you can be a leader.” Whatley’s voice was quiet, but it held the unmistakable sound of command. “Clear?”
Justin sucked in a breath. “Crystal.”
“Dismissed.”
Justin turned on his heel, strode out of the ready room, and made his way toward the mess hall favored by the pilots.
19
Seeing Feldstein, Adeoye, and Mateus gathered around a table in the busy officers’ mess, Justin waved. He was juggling a tray of food in one hand and his drink in the other. The steward had advertised the meal as fresh turkey with mashed potatoes and green beans, but Justin was sure it was freeze-dried. It didn’t matter—he was grateful for a hot meal and the chance to stretch his legs.
Feldstein waved back, motioning him over.
Carefully placing the tray on the table, Justin dropped into the remaining open seat. “Hey. How’s everyone doing?”
“Oh, peachy. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die in glorious battle against the League of Sol,” Feldstein replied.
Mateus looked down her nose and shook her head in between bites of turkey. “I thought I was the morbid one around here.”
“I am thankful to God to be alive,” Adeoye said, his voice barely audible over the noise of the mess hall. “It seems like a miracle that we’re all sitting here together, breaking bread.”
Justin ate a forkful of mashed potatoes. Compared to ration bars, it was like eating five-star gourmet food. “Or proof of highly improbable events occurring in the universe.”
Feldstein gave him a withering glare. “Oh, come on.”
“Just calling it like I see it,” Justin replied. “I’m grateful we’re all here.” He made eye contact with Mateus. “Thought we lost you for a few minutes there.”
“It’ll take more than that for those Leaguers to kill me.”
As they continued eating, the volume suddenly increased on the wall-mounted holoprojector, causing nearly everyone in the mess hall to turn toward it. The Oval Office came into focus, with President Nolan seated behind the desk. His voice carried across the mess. “My fellow citizens of the Terran Coalition, I come to you tonight as we celebrate our victory over the League of Sol.”
Justin noted that every eye around him was on the holoprojector.
“I first wish to thank the brave men and women of the Coalition Defense Force. We can all recall from the long annals of human history when small groups of people accomplished nearly impossible tasks. General Irvine, may her soul rest in peace, was one of those people. Under her leadership, two hundred ships held the line to stop a thousand.” Nolan appeared to be overcome by emotion. “We’re still pulling our honored dead and wounded from the ships and wrecks above Canaan, and the melted alloy from the League’s weapons hasn’t fully cooled. Yet we as citizens of our great nation know what is asked of us in the days ahead.”
“Maybe I should’ve voted for him,” Feldstein commented sotto voce.
Nolan stared directly into the camera. “I came into office thinking my hardest task would be to wrangle a balanced budget while getting Liberals and Liberal-Democrats to work together.” A small smile creased his face. “I doubt I’m alone in saying I wish that were our hardest task for tomorrow. But it’s not. A great man who sat in an office not unlike this one once said that freedom is only a generation away from extinction. My father knew that when he joined the CDF to fight the Saurians, who at the time represented the most significant threat we’d ever faced. I, like many of us, believed that with defeat of the Saurian empire, the Terran Coalition was the sole galactic superpower in our region of the Milky Way.”
Justin stole a few glances at his friends. They were all nodding. I wonder where he’s going with this.
“That belief was a mistake. We beat too many of our swords into plowshares and allowed too much of our defense infrastructure to be mothballed, where it withered away. It was my mistake not to do something about the structural problems in our military when I was sworn in as your president. I can only ask the forgiveness of the citizens of the Terran Coalition and pledge that I will do everything in my power to win this war. Together, we will beat our plowshares back into swords. We will fight across space, on our planets, in asteroid belts, and wherever else this enemy hides. What is our aim? Unconditional surrender of the League of Sol. To sum it up, we won’t stop until we reach Earth—and victory!”
Wild cheers broke out along with sustained applause.
“Shut up! He’s still talking,” Justin yelled, as did others.
The tumult died down quickly.
“Life will change within the Terran Coalition. Those of you old enough to remember the height of the Saurian wars will no doubt recognize some of the measures we’re considering—things like nationalizing manufacturing to prioritize weapons, armor, starships, and other needed war material. Though millions of our citizens are lining up to volunteer to fight, a draft must remain on the table. Let there be no doubt… this will be a long war. It’s a war worth fighting and the challenge of our generation. I plan to speak to you often over these next months, and I ask everyone to set aside our political differences to work together as citizens of the Terran Coalition. We will form a unity government by the end of the week that includes all major parties. I have asked the leaders of our major religions to come together and plan a week-long prayer-and-fasting event.” Nolan bit his lip. “To have any hope of victory, Almighty God must be in our hearts and minds. We formed this nation hundreds of years ago after escaping oppression at the hands of the World Society. Today, we will not surrender in the face of their descendants. What was worth fighting for then is still worth the cost. So, my fellow citizens, stand firm. Work hard. Be prepared to sacrifice. We’re in this together.”
Nolan paused. “During our last conflict, the CDF went into combat with the battle cry of ‘Fight the good fight, no matter the odds.’ Let that be our battle cry now. No matter the odds! May God bless you, and may God continue to bless the Terran Coalition.”
Silence followed in the mess hall for a few seconds. Then someone with a voice that Justin didn’t recognize cried, “Fight the good fight, no matter the odds!”
“No matter the odds!” Justin and dozens more screamed. As he did, he realized that he was part of something greater than himself. He was simultaneously shaken to the core and prouder than he’d ever felt in his life.
Clapping rang out for what seemed like several minutes until it finally died down and allowed those seated at Justin’s table to resume their conversation.
“I’m ready to go cap some Leaguers,” Mateus said between bites. “Just point to their nearest carrier.”
“Going to single-handedly eradicate the League of Sol?” Feldstein asked with a smirk.
“I’ll leave a few for you. Just so you can feel good about yourselves.”
They all laughed.
Adeoye took a sip of his drink. “Let us see who has more victories in a month, Ms. Mateus. I suspect it will be me.”
“Oh, really?” Mateus deadpanned.
“He’s a quiet one,” Justin said. “You always have to be careful of the quiet ones.”
Feldstein took her last bite of potatoes. “And on that note, I’m going to the shul.”
“What’s a shul?” Mateus asked.
“Church for Jews,” Feldstein replied hastily.
“What’s that? Like two, three times in twenty-four hours?” Justin grinned. “Might need to get a cot set up for you.”
“Oh, lookee here, a regular funny man,” Feldstein said as she stood. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I need to pray after spending a day trying to kill people while they’re trying to kill me.”
“All I need is a stiff drink and a deck of cards so I can clean you all out.” Mateus took a swig from her glass. “Who’s with me?”
Adeoye leaned forward and grinned. “Count me in.”
“I’m heading for my cabin,” Justin announced. “Rack time, and if I’m lucky, talking to my family awaits.” He stood.
“Take care, Lieutenant. That was some great flying today,” Feldstein said. “See you around, guys.”
As Justin walked away, he heard Mateus and Adeoye ribbing each other about who was going to win the card game, and the banter brought a smile to his face. One thing was certain—they’d gelled as a team. Where the sands of fortune would take him, he didn’t know. But at least the president seemed to know what needed to be done, and Justin was ready to get on with it.
* * *
By 2000 hours Coalition Mean Time, Justin had returned to his cabin. While much of the crew headed down to the surface to take shore leave while the Zvika Greengold underwent repairs, he wasn’t interested. Above all, Justin wanted to see and talk to his wife. Lieutenant Singh had announced over the PA system as he walked down the corridor that the communications blackout was over.
The moment Justin crossed the threshold into his small cabin, he grabbed his tablet and engaged the vidlink application. A few moments later, Michelle’s face, framed by a dark room that he recognized as their bedroom, came into focus.
“Baby, oh my God, you’re okay!” The words flooded out of her mouth. “I was so worried.”
Justin sat on the couch, cradling the tablet like it was the most sacred object in the universe. “I’m sorry. I tried to call, but there’s been a system-wide communication blackout.”
Tears poured down her cheeks as she pushed her long brown hair out of the way. “Are you safe?”
“Yeah. The news is reporting it, right? No enemy ships left in Canaan system,” Justin replied in a monotone. “I was so scared I wouldn’t see you again.”
“Did you fight?”
He bit his lip. “I flew four combat missions in twenty-four hours.” The enormity of what he’d been through, as he uttered the words, finally caught up with him. “We all did.”
“When are you coming home?” Michelle asked through her tears. “Maggie is worried sick, but I’ve been telling her we couldn’t talk right now, and everything was okay, but she needs to hear it from you.” She shook. “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, hon.” Justin touched the screen. “My unit’s been called to active duty.”
“Then you’re not coming home,” she replied quietly.
“No. There’s some talk about shore leave in a few months, if it goes well. But all indications are this war is just beginning.”
Michelle sucked in a breath and tried to dry her tears. “I understand, baby. Do you think we can talk while you’re out there?”
“No force in this universe will prevent me from vidlinking my wife and daughter,” Justin said. He forced a smile to his lips. “Are you okay?”
“No.” She started to cry again. “Three families got notifications today,” she said between sobs. “On our block. I stayed by the door, on my knees, begging God not to let it be you.”
Tears formed in Justin’s eyes, and he let out a breath. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. He answered my prayers, because you’re still here.” She pursed her lips. “Maggie’s asleep… it’s two a.m. here, but next time?”
“Yes. I’ll plan a little better.” Michelle had long ago accepted that any faith he had wasn’t shown outwardly. Even if I know she wishes that were different. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”
“Promise me you’ll come home, Justin.”
“I promise you that with every fiber of my being, I will do everything in my power to come home.” He glanced down. “But as I’ve learned the last two days, combat is unforgiving. Tomorrow might be my day. I don’t know. What I know is I’ve got some great reasons to fight hard, stay alive, and hold both of you in my arms again.”
Michelle, despite her tears, grinned. “I’ll hold you to that, Justin Spencer.”
“You do that. I’d better get off of this before I spend my comm rations.”
“Rations?”
“Wartime… everything’s going to be rationed, from what I heard. We’ve never known anything like this in our lifetimes.”
“I suppose I might have to learn how to sew. Maggie goes through clothes every two weeks.”
Justin laughed. “Hopefully it won’t get that bad.” He paused and touched the screen again. “I love you.”
“I love you too. God bless.”
The screen went dark, and Justin set the tablet back on his desk. He thought of Michelle and playing with Maggie in their backyard. Determined to make it through another day, he took off his duty uniform and prepared for bed. Memories of happier days sustained him, and he eventually fell into sleep—with the belief that the next day, the CDF would take the fight to the enemy.
Epilogue
Unity Station
Deep Space—Between the Orion and the
Sagittarius Arms
25 October 2433
Unity Station was the largest space-borne construction ever undertaken by the League of Sol. For fifty years, they had slowly built it into a mammoth facility capable of supporting twenty thousand crew and hundreds of ships, and it had enough storage space to supply fleets of vessels a thousand strong. The station was the pinnacle of socialist engineering and a representation of how far they would go to ensure the whole of humanity existed solely under the banner of the League.
Fleet Admiral Chang Yuen stepped off the VIP shuttle that had carried him from the LX Vasily Kanin to Unity Station. The moment he did, a massive honor guard of hundreds of League Navy sailors came to attention. Their arms snapped to their chests in the salute of the League. He returned the gesture as the familiar tune of their anthem blared from an unseen speaker somewhere on the hangar deck. At the end of the rows of sharply dressed men and women, another admiral in a black dress uniform stood. Yuen made his way slowly through the lines.
“Admiral Yuen, I welcome you to Unity Station,” the other man stated. His name tag read Admiral Yegor Voronin.
“Thank you.”
“I’ve had quarters prepared for you, and crews are standing by to resupply your flagship.”
Yuen smiled thinly. “I suggest we dispense with the pleasantries and make our way to your office to
discuss the war effort.”
The Russian stared at him with cold, hard eyes. “Of course.” He snapped his fingers, and a young lieutenant appeared at Voronin’s side. “Please escort Admiral Yuen to the observation deck. I will join him shortly.”
Both men touched their closed right fists to their chests. Yuen stalked off, following the lieutenant. Instead of making small talk, he spent the time observing the surrounding sailors. To his disgust, most had numerous uniform violations, and discipline appeared lax, as small groups congregated around others performing their duties. Individualism is never a moment away from threatening our society. To Yuen, individualism was the worst enemy a human could face. The League had spent centuries eradicating it from all aspects of their system, replacing it with a spirit of shared sacrifice and glory. Anyone who displayed the slightest hint of thought against the principles of the state was corrected.
A ten-minute walk later, Yuen and the lieutenant arrived at a well-appointed conference room adorned with the flag of the League of Sol and various posters, some urging citizens to report antisocial behavior and others showing victory over the capitalists of the Terran Coalition. The lieutenant departed, leaving Yuen alone.
By Yuen’s count, Admiral Voronin arrived twenty minutes later. Yuen spent the time analyzing personnel files and ship readiness reports from the roughly seventy vessels that had escaped the disaster at Canaan.
Voronin cleared his throat as he walked through the hatch. “My apologies. I had a few issues to deal with.”
Yuen held up his hand. “Seville will arrive back at Earth shortly. I am his replacement.” He grinned coldly. “This post should’ve been mine and would have, if it weren’t for the interference of Admiral Lambert. Now that it is… we’re going to do things my way.”
“The political officers seem to insist on us doing it their way.” The large Russian cleared his throat. “I don’t want things to get off on the wrong foot here. We have equal rank. My duty is to command this station and see that you have the resources and logistical support to win the war. Forget everything else. I want our sailors’ sacrifice to mean something. We lost a hundred thousand men and women in that stupid cluster of a battle with the Terrans.” His gaze drilled into Yuen. “Don’t make the same mistakes.”
Coalition Defense Force Boxed Set: First to Fight Page 20
