by Daniel Gibbs
“I would expect nothing less from the coward,” David said caustically. “I want the tactical network configured so we clear a path to the Annihilator. Seville isn’t getting out of here without paying the bill.”
“It would be quite nice to see the admiral in the stockade,” Aibek stated.
“What’s President Spencer always saying? Wanted, dead or alive? He needs to pay for the thousands who’ve died today,” David replied, his voice cold, without turning around. “TAO, firing-point procedures. Master Two-fifteen, Master Two-eighteen, and Master Two-oh-nine, forward magnetic cannons and neutron emitters.”
“Firing solutions set, sir.”
“TAO, line up alpha strikes from all fleet warships, synchronize firing sequences.”
“Aye aye, sir. Tactical network is active, fleet is reporting readiness,” Ruth said. David could see from looking over her shoulder almost all the icons representing starships in the CDF/RSN fleet were showing green, meaning they were ready to fire all primary weapons. He mentally counted down to five seconds before the League ships would be in optimum weapons range of the station.
“TAO, match bearings, shoot, all weapons, all ships.”
As David watched, Ruth pressed down on a single button, which alerted the fleet to fire and triggered the Lion’s weapons launch sequence at the same time. He felt the ship shudder under his feet as the massive magnetic cannons spoke as one, flinging small helicar-sized projectiles at the enemy fleet. League icons began to blink out as the fleet’s weapons found them.
David returned to his CO’s chair and sat down, pulling up his tactical plot. Then, all hell broke loose as Unity Station opened up with its dozens of weapons pods, thousands of missiles and plasma cannon turrets. Masses of League escorts—destroyers, frigates, and point defense corvettes—simply ceased to exist, exploding as they were ripped apart by the sheer intensity of the firepower directed at them.
Dear God, thank you for not letting us have to take on that station head-on, David pondered as the onslaught continued. Between the heavy cruisers of the fleet and the anti-capital ship weaponry on the station, three Alexander class battleships were destroyed, but most importantly in David’s mind, a large gap was created in the League’s battle line. He’d saved a full load of missiles and the Lion’s particle beams for when they were needed most.
“TAO, what’s the designation for the LSS Annihilator?” David asked, unable to zoom in far enough on his display to see its numerical code.
“Master Two, sir.”
“Navigation, intercept course, Master Two.”
“Aye, sir, intercept course set,” Hammond replied.
“Are you sure about this, sir? We have precious few escorting ships left. Neither side has much in the way of fighter craft left, so that evens it out, but still…our damaged ship versus the pride of the League fleet, which hasn’t so much as taken a single hit in this engagement?” Aibek asked, his voice quiet.
“It’s a risk, XO,” David allowed. “It’ll also end this battle in one fell swoop. Don’t forget, Seville’s still got ships out there that ran out to look for us. If they come back before we’ve consolidated our position, this will go the other way so fast, it’ll make your head spin.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Navigation, flank speed. TAO, firing point procedures, all weapons, Master Two.”
“Admiral, the Lion of Judah is heading directly for us,” the tactical officer on the Annihilator intoned, his voice almost in a panic.
Seville’s first reaction was that he should draw his sidearm and shoot the man in the head for his cowardice. But he’s right. The damn CDF has out-maneuvered us. How in the hell did they manage to capture the station from right under our nose? Seville forced his brain back to the problem at hand; the Lion was coming.
“Admiral, what should we do? Should we advance?” Strappi said quietly in his chair to Seville’s left.
Ignoring him, Seville instead turned toward the communications officer. “What is the last ETA of our reinforcements, Lieutenant?”
“Fifty-five minutes, sir,” was the female officer's reply.
In other words, too long. In fifty-five minutes, there won’t be a fleet left to reinforce. “Navigator, begin to plot a retreat vector for our fleet.”
“But, Admiral, we can’t just leave… they took the biggest space installation humans have ever constructed!” Strappi trilled.
As Seville was formulating the words to rebuke Strappi, the deck of the bridge shook under his feet, and he pitched forward, impacting the plating. “Report!” he shouted.
“Lion of Judah has fired her primary weapons at us, sir! Forward shields have collapsed, and we’ve taken damage to our hull,” the tactical officer answered.
“Spin up the wormhole drive and order the fleet to retreat.”
“But, Admiral, we can’t just run away,” Strappi responded, his voice quivering with fear.
“Would you rather be captured by the Terrans, Colonel? How would that be for morale?” Seville said, his voice dripping sarcasm, even with all the pandemonium around them.
“Of course, sir,” Strappi replied, suddenly seeming to realize his place.
“Jump as soon as we’re ready,” Seville commanded, staring straight ahead. Damn that man. The second time he’s bested me. If only those fools on the Social and Public Safety Committee would have listened to me, we’d be wiping up the last remnants of their fleet!
Simultaneously, on the bridge of the Lion of Judah, David leaned forward in his chair; they continued to close the distance with Seville’s flagship, and he could sense the League fleet was close to collapse. “Conn, TAO! Aspect change, Master Two! She’s powering up her Lawrence drives! Correction, all remaining enemy contacts are powering up Lawrence drives!”
“TAO, firing point procedures, aft VRLS, target Master Two. Make tubes one hundred twenty-one through two hundred forty ready in all respects, open outer missile doors.”
“Firing solutions confirmed, sir, requested tubes ready in all respects, outer doors are open.”
“TAO, Status of magnetic cannon reload?”
“Twenty seconds, sir.”
“Match bearings, shoot, all missiles.”
The ship shuddered as a hundred and twenty missiles roared out of the aft VRLS, heading straight toward the Annihilator. As they did, David saw League icons blinking out off the target plot; the signature associated with them indicated they were jumping out. Growling under his breath, he watched as the target disappeared. “TAO, redirect those missiles to the closest League vessels that haven’t completed spin up.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
More League ships exploded from the onslaught of the Lion’s missiles, and the rest of the fleet’s combined weapons complements, all while any vessels that could jumped out.
“Conn, Communications! Receiving a request for terms of surrender from the remaining League vessels!”
All the emotion, all the heartbreak, all the loss, came to a head right then and there as everyone on the bridge knew they had won—not the easy victory they’d assumed when the fleet left Canaan four days prior—but a resounding victory that came at great cost. From the most junior rating, all the way up to David himself, the bridge crew let out a guttural roar; clapping, shouts, jeers at the League, and praise for the fleet rang out.
David stood up, pumped his right fist in the air, and shouted, “Yeaaaaaaah!” He turned to Aibek and grabbed his left forearm with his right hand in the traditional Saurian style. “Nicely done, XO! Nicely done,” he said with a fierce grin. The pain is still there, the loss is still there, but the sacrifice was worth it. We earned this.
Ruth and Hammond exchanged high fives with each other while cheering; glancing to his left, David saw that even Jefferson was embracing a junior communications technician as the bridge rocked with joy.
Allowing the celebration to continue for a few seconds, David noticed Tinetariro looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He answered her unspo
ken question with a nod, indicating for her to get everyone back under control.
“As you were!” Tinetariro shouted. “Man your posts and prepare to receive POWs!”
“Aye aye, ma’am!” a junior crewman in the back of the bridge yelled out.
“Do I look like an officer to you, young man!” Tinetariro shouted, turning back toward him. “I work for a living! Get strapped into your seat, now!”
“Communications, signal the League ships to lower their shields, stop their engines, and prepare to be boarded. Round up any ship’s security personnel and Marines we’ve got left in the fleet.”
“Aye aye, sir!” Jefferson responded.
David turned and punched the button on his chair that engaged the 1MC. “Attention, all hands, this is your commanding officer. The League fleet has been defeated. Admiral Seville is on the run, all the way back to Earth. I couldn’t ask for a finer crew and a better performance in this dire hour. Godspeed, and keep it up.” David thought for just a moment he could hear the sound of thousands of soldiers cheering through the deck plating all around him and broke into an even bigger grin.
37
The following day, David was once again in the CO’s chair on the bridge of the Lion of Judah. The sight of Seville running away was a sight for sore eyes, but by no means was it the end of the war. That sobering fact left him unsettled after the sweet feeling of victory faded the night before. The fleet’s win was celebrated throughout the fleet and the Terran Coalition. Holonews footage of bells ringing throughout churches and houses of worship, coupled with massive celebrations breaking out in the streets on dozens of planets led every broadcast.
For the jump back into Canaan proper, David had something special in mind to honor those lost. “Navigation, status of Lawrence drive?”
“Lawrence drive coordinates laid in, sir.”
“Ship’s status, XO?”
“All departments are ready for the return to Canaan, sir,” Aibek answered. The wound on his head had healed nicely.
“Very well. Navigation, execute Lawrence drive jump.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Hammond said.
The lights dimmed on the bridge, and David felt the artificial wormhole generator straining to engage. After a few months on the ship and dozens of jumps, he could tell down to the second what stage of the cycle was occurring based on the vibrations felt through the deck plates. A few seconds later, the mighty warship entered its tunnel through the universe and popped out, only a few million kilometers from Canaan.
The customary several seconds of recharge and clearing of the sensor network occurred before Ruth populated the tactical plot with all friendly contacts. “Conn, TAO. Sensors online, no hostile contacts present.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” David replied; he glanced back toward Tinetariro. “Master Chief, did you remember your pipe?”
“Aye aye, sir,” Tinetariro replied in her deep British accent.
“Navigation, plot a course that puts the CSV Victory off our starboard quarter.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Hammond acknowledged.
“Communications, tie our 1MC into a fleet-wide transmission.”
“Aye aye, sir, you’re on live for fleet-wide and 1MC,” Taylor replied. He’d retaken his station for the first watch, though David felt he was quite subdued.
David spoke into the mic on his chair. “Attention on the ship, attention in the fleet. This is General David Cohen. I requested our course specifically take us around the CSV Victory, in part to honor the sacrifice made nearly twenty-eight years ago. Twenty-nine thousand, seven hundred and fourteen brave men and women made the ultimate sacrifice during the first battle of Canaan. They held the line, fought off the darkness, and gave everyone in the Terran Coalition hope we could achieve victory. I doubt any of those serving back then would think that today we’d still be at war. But we are. Today we return from another battle, victorious but having suffered severe losses. Tens of thousands soldiers again paid the ultimate price. As we pass by with the Victory to starboard and render honors, remember the sacrifice of all those so long ago, and remember the sacrifice of our fellows over the last four days. Never forget the price paid for our freedom, and never forget the heroes among us. Godspeed to you all, Cohen out.”
David glanced at Taylor. “Communications, switch me back to 1MC only, please.”
“You’re up, sir.”
“Attention, all hands, this is your commanding officer. Master Chief, if you please.”
Tinetariro stepped forward and put the bosun’s pipe to her lips, trilling out a warbling call.
“Attention, all hangars, open outer doors and man the sides. I say again, open outer doors and man the sides.” David cut the mic off and glanced toward Ruth. “TAO, load ceremonial blanks, all starboard side magnetic cannons.”
“Aye aye, sir, loading ceremonial blanks, all starboard-side magnetic cannons,” Ruth replied.
“TAO, lock starboard-side magnetic cannons into broadside position.”
“Aye aye, sir, blanks loaded, starboard-side magnetic cannons locked into broadside position.”
“Hangar bays report open, all sides manned, sir,” Taylor said.
“Outstanding, Lieutenant. TAO, display exterior holocamera image of CSV Victory on the central projector.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Ruth answered; a moment later, a holographic image of the old battleship, scarred from battle almost three decades ago and weathered by the passage of time, filled the large holographic projection tank on the bridge. An outsized flag of the Terran Coalition was attached to the destroyed bridge of the ship, held unfurled by a yardarm.
David stood. “Attention to colors!” All personnel on the ship who weren’t strapped into their consoles faced the flag and came to attention, him included. His hand came up to his brow, and he saluted with purpose. “As you were.”
“Conn, TAO. Passing CSV Victory in fifteen seconds on current course and speed, sir.”
“TAO, shoot, starboard magnetic cannons.”
A single volley of the ceremonial blanks was fired; they did nothing except produce puffs of smoke out of the barrels of the long railguns. Typically, the magnetic cannons didn’t produce any smoke as electromagnets launched the shells within them.
“Navigation, ETA to our berth?” David asked. The Lion took up the same docking space as a fleet carrier and there were only a couple of those available at any given time.
“Fifteen minutes, sir. We’re cleared for priority docking per the automated station dockmaster,” Hammond said.
“Very well,” David said, cueing the 1MC once more. “Attention, all hands, secure outer hangar doors. Man docking stations and prepare for spacedock.”
Aibek glanced at him. “Sir, I do not understand what you just did. Why did we open the outer docking bay doors and fire blanks into space?”
“It's our manner of rendering honors to the Victory. She was our flagship during the first battle of Canaan. The general who commanded our forces was killed on her bridge when it was wrecked by League fire. She lived just long enough to see the enemy vanquished. The ship was already obsolete—it fought in the Saurian/Terran Coalition war—and was due to be scrapped anyway. Civilian leaders decided to leave it in space as a memorial to the soldiers who died, for all eternity.”
“I understand. We have similar monuments,” Aibek said after thinking it over. “Human sentimentality runs very deep.”
“That it does,” David allowed, smiling. “It's one of our best features, I think. If we forget history, we’ll repeat it. If we remember, perhaps there’s hope for us yet.”
After rendering honors to the Victory, they’d docked successfully and offloaded the caskets that held the remains of those who died on the Lion. Emotionally drained, David returned to his quarters afterward and took his meal alone. Forcing himself to sleep, he woke up the next morning surprisingly refreshed; after working his way through his usual ritual, he got a hot mug of coffee from the officers’ mess and made his
way to his day cabin. Determined to clear away as many easy administrative tasks as possible, before the paperwork and after-action report portion of his day began, he answered several requests with a simple “approved” or “denied.” The next item that popped up was from MGySgt Reuben Menahem, a name David didn’t readily recognize. When he tapped on the email, it filled his screen.
General Cohen,
Please review the attached after-action report. It is a true and accurate account of what happened in the control room of Unity Station. I decided to give this to you in the hopes that you could get through to Colonel Demood rather than the Judge Advocate General. I leave the matter in your hands.
– Master Gunnery Sergeant Reuben Menahem, Terran Coalition Marine Corps
Quickly skimming the attached document, David’s jaw dropped even as he was walking. What the heck got into Cal? Threatening to kill twenty thousand Leaguers, including thousands of civilians? As soon as he walked in the hatch to his office, he set the mug of coffee down and brought his wristcomm to his lips. “General Cohen to Colonel Demood.”
A moment later, Calvin’s voice came through loud and clear. “Demood here, sir.”
“Report to my office immediately.”
“Yes, sir, on my way,” Calvin replied, his voice cocky as usual.
David sat down heavily in his chair, pushing the tablet in front of him, its screen still showing the after-action report. There has to be some kind of rational explanation of this behavior. Cal would never follow through on a threat to kill twenty-thousand people. He’s a better man than that. He leaned back in his chair, eyes locking on to the ceiling. Over the decades, he’d seen incredible amounts of carnage both to the bodies and the minds of those he served with. The trauma, pain, and stress were like a ticking time bomb, which no one knew when it would finally catch up with them.
There was a loud knock on the hatch, to which David replied, “Come!”
