by Daniel Gibbs
The hatch swung open, revealing Calvin’s substantial form. He strode into the office, closing the hatch behind him and came to attention before David’s desk. “Colonel Calvin Demood reports as ordered, sir!”
“Have a seat, Colonel,” David said, his tone all business.
As Calvin sat down, he stared at David. “What can I do for you, sir?”
David slid the tablet across the desk. “You can start by explaining this to me.”
Calvin picked the tablet up and spent a few seconds reading it before tossing it down on the desk with obvious contempt. “I don’t understand the question, sir.”
“Is it true?”
“Yes, it’s true.”
“Are you seriously telling me you first put a gun to the head of a POW and threatened to kill her, before shooting a Leaguer in both kneecaps?”
“Yes, sir, I did,” Calvin replied, his lips tight.
David’s face betrayed his shock and his mouth dropped open. “After that, you threatened to kill twenty thousand enemy combatants as well as over five thousand civilians, taking steps to make good on the threat?”
“Guilty as charged, sir.”
David’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “What the hell, Calvin? We don’t do that.” The curse word flew out of his mouth, shocking him mentally. He saw red.
“Really? How many times has your ship blown a League ship out of space without so much as an escape pod being launched? You sure you want to start comparing kill counts, General?”
David sat back, unimpressed with his attitude. “That’s not the same, and you know it…” he replied forcefully before Calvin interrupted him.
“No, it’s not. It’s not the same as sighting down on another person, pulling the trigger, and seeing their head explode. You and the rest of the fleet fly boys get to sit back, press buttons, and kill tens of thousands of people. Try getting your hands dirty, sir, before you criticize me or my methods.”
David became very quiet for a moment, rage building within him. “Colonel, my first combat was against a League boarding party. I know exactly what it feels like to pull that trigger and see another human fall over like a bowling pin and have to live with myself afterward. I still see their faces in my nightmares. Don’t you dare tell me I don’t have the right to criticize you or your methods. Are you admitting to war crimes? You’re better than that. We’re all better than that. We’re the damn good guys. I put this uniform on to fight evil every day. I’ll be damned if I’ll allow you to dishonor it.”
Calvin’s face twisted into a snarl. “Would you have preferred I sat back and did nothing? We could have cleared the base one room at a time… How many of my Marines would’ve died, and how many more ships would’ve been destroyed?”
“If we adopt the tactics of the League, we become the League. I’d rather die right here, right now, than become the very thing I hate!” David shouted.
“Cheap words after the real soldiers won the fight for you, General, sir,” Calvin spat.
“What the hell happened to you, Colonel?”
“I got tired of watching my men get slaughtered. I got tired of the endless parades and funerals for the dead. I had a chance to affect the outcome of the battle and win it. So I did. Court-martial me, remove me from service; hell, shoot me if that’ll make you feel better, General, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat. The League is scum. They’re evil. They’ve murdered millions. Killing them is like taking out the trash. They have no innocents, no civilians. As far as I’m concerned, every last one of them is a target for me to kill.”
“That’s a load of bull. They’re forced to fight, they live in a state of near martial law. If anyone in the League dares to speak out against the government, they’re disappeared into the night, along with that person’s entire family. What you just said dishonors everything we stand for. To hear that come from someone wearing the uniform and symbols I hold so dear…makes me sick!” David thundered.
Calvin stood up, angrily throwing the chair back. “Screw you. The only reason you’re in charge is because your daddy had more balls than you’ll ever have and flew his ship into the side of Seville’s flagship. Go back to playing with buttons, General. Leave the real work to me and my men.”
As Calvin began to turn his back, the rage building in David unleashed. “I did not give you permission to depart this office, Colonel Demood. Turn your ass around and heave to. You will show proper respect to a superior officer!”
Calvin stopped and turned around after a moment. “Yes, sir,” he replied, exaggerating the words in a mocking tone.
“Now it’s my turn, Colonel. Your behavior is a disgrace to the Terran Coalition Marine Corps. It is a disgrace to the memories of the Marines who died under your command. It is a disgrace to the nearly fifteen thousand men and women who paid the ultimate price in the last seventy-two hours for our victory. The ends do not justify the means! That is the philosophy of the League, not of us! No matter what it takes, we do it the right way. You took an oath, Colonel. We all did. An oath to obey lawful orders, to abide by the uniform code of military justice. We took an oath to ourselves… To our country. And to God. I might be able to forgive you putting a gun to the soldier’s head. Threatening to kill civilians, shoving the man aside who tried to keep you from going over the line, and starting the process to kill twenty thousand people? That’s the actions of a monster, not of someone who wears this uniform!” David shouted at the top of his lungs.
“What are your orders, sir?” Calvin replied, rage painted over his face.
“That’s up to you, Colonel Demood. You have two options. Number one, I can refer this report to the Judge Advocate General’s office. At a minimum, you’ll be drummed out of the service in disgrace. Number two, you will immediately and with all haste proceed to the medical bay, request assignment of a psychotherapist, and get the help you need. The only reason that option is open to you is I believe that deep inside, you’re an honorable and decent man.”
Calvin’s face twisted all the more. “You want me to see a damn shrink?”
“I want the man I know and respect to get the help he needs before he’s gone and some evil creature incapable of defining right from wrong takes his place.”
“Anything else, sir?” Calvin forced out through gritted teeth.
“Report back to me when you’ve made your decision, Colonel. Dismissed!”
Without another word, Calvin spun on his heel, walked to the hatch, threw it open, and stormed out, slamming the hatch as loudly as he could behind him.
David was left staring at the closed door, his face red, pulse pounding. God, please help Calvin. He’s lost, and he needs to find his way back. I can’t force him to get help, but please guide him to the path.
What does that sorry sack of shit know about what I do? Calvin mentally raged to himself as he stormed through the corridor leading to the gravlift on deck one. He roughly shoved a junior enlisted soldier out of the way, then cued the lift to take him to deck seventeen: Marine country. I’ve defended the Terran Coalition for over twenty years. I’ve watched my Marines die around me, I’ve buried too many friends to count. My Marines and I won the battle for these fleet pansies. Now they’ve got the balls to tell me my methods were terrible? Screw ‘em all!
Somewhere deep inside, another voice entered Calvin’s mind. But what if he’s right? What if what I did was wrong? What if I’ve become a mirror of the very enemy I swore to defeat?
Pushing the voice down, Calvin strode out of the lift and fast walked toward the Marine officer’s gym. Reaching the hatch, he waited for it to automatically open and went in. Set on reaching the closest punching bag, he walked up to it and punched the bag so hard, his fist went through the leather.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, drawing stares from the other Marines in the room.
Calvin threw another series of punches into the bag before kicking it roundhouse style. The kick knocked it off its mount and sent the
bag flying onto the floor, its ballast spilling out.
“Sir, are you okay?” one of the junior officers nearest to Calvin asked.
“Do I look okay to you?” Calvin shouted back. “I am sick and tired of some puke from the CDF telling me what I should and shouldn’t do in the face of the League of Sol!”
Taking out his frustration on the next punching bag in line, he drove his fist into it repeatedly, drawing back bloodied knuckles. He picked up a dumbbell and tossed it like a ragdoll across the gym. “Screw them!” he shouted before uttering a string of oaths. “I hate them all! I hate the League! Kill every stinking one of them! Kill their women! Kill their children! When that’s done, shoot their damn dogs and level every planet!”
By now, every Marine in the gym had stopped and was staring, many with open mouths at Calvin’s behavior.
“Sir, perhaps you should sit down,” the same young officer said, his eyes wide open in shock.
“I don’t want to freaking sit down, Lieutenant! I want to go bust something’s skull in!”
You can’t go on like this, Calvin, the voice said within. Turning your back on what you know to be just and true has only made you like the enemy you profess to hate.
“No!” Calvin shouted before he picked up the rack of dumbbells and tossed it across the gym. Seeing no other way to expel his rage, he stormed back out of the gym and down the passageway.
Wandering around the ship for what seemed like hours, Calvin shoved people out of the way, muttered his way through several gravlifts, and had no real destination in mind. The blinding red rage just wouldn’t retreat like it usually did when the battle was over. At some point, he put his hands to his face and hung his head. What the hell is wrong with me?
You’ve ignored right and wrong for too long, the voice within him said. It’s not too late to get help.
Looking up, Calvin saw he was standing outside of the expansive medical bay. I don’t need a damn shrink.
Then what do you need? Booze? Drugs? More killing?
In that instant, Calvin suddenly realized he was melting down. Filled with shame, he nearly fell into the hatch and stumbled through it into the medbay. Shocked medical personnel stared at him and his disheveled appearance. Doctor Tural rushed out of his office and walked up.
“Colonel… General Cohen told me you’d be coming. Please, come with me.”
The memory of killing the League interrogator so many years ago flashed through his mind, followed by the images of shooting the kneecaps of the prisoner aboard Unity station. Over and over, his mind forced Calvin to accept what he had done. Shocked, disgusted with himself, he shook his head and reached for the sidearm he kept on his right leg. Pulling it out in a practiced, fluid motion, he put it under his chin. “Not sure I’ve got any business staying here, Doctor.”
Now you’re going to take the coward’s way out? the voice asked.
“Colonel,” Tural began. “There’s no need for that. No matter what you’ve done, no matter what happened, it is not for us to end our life. Put your sidearm down,” the older man said in a quiet yet soothing tone.
Do not fear, I am with you. David and the rest of them will help you, Calvin heard the voice say.
“No one is with me. I’m alone. I’ve always been alone. Just my Marines and I,” Calvin said, not quite as loud, still holding the gun under his chin.
Nurses and medical technicians backed away from the scene, taking cover behind triage beds and desks. Tural stayed a beacon of calm, his voice clear and steady. “Colonel Demood, please. Put down your sidearm.” He advanced, slowly making his way closer.
God has plans for you, plans that will help you, the voice said.
Tural reached Calvin and put his right hand over the sidearm and took Calvin’s hands in his. “Let me have it.” There was no resistance as the gun slowly fell while tears streamed down his face. Tural carefully kept it from falling to the floor before clearing the chamber of the live round within it. He then dropped the magazine out.
Calvin quietly stood there sobbing.
“It’ll be okay, Colonel,” Tural said, stepping forward and embracing the tough Marine. “We’ll get you help. I promise you, by Allah.”
38
After a restless sleep lasting less than six hours, David found himself going through his morning ritual on autopilot. Second nature, it was merely what he did every single morning. Every once in a while, he’d change something up; the order in which he did things before his shower, for instance, after once reading a scientific paper suggesting it helped the brain stay effective as one aged by changing up routines. Today, though, he was trying to make it through the day. The wildly varying emotions continued to rock him. They’d won and won big. At the same time, the cost had been incredibly high. Picking up a plate with scrambled eggs on it, toast, and a big mug of coffee, he walked through the officers’ mess nearest the bridge, looking for an empty table. Seeing Ruth sitting by herself, he trotted over.
“Lieutenant, may I join you?”
Ruth glanced up from her tablet and nearly spilled the mug of hot coffee she held. “Of course, sir!”
David smiled and sat his tray down before dropping into the empty seat. “You know, we’re not on the bridge.”
“I’m still not quite used to your more relaxed way of doing things, sir,” Ruth replied.
“Well, we’ve been working together for going on a year now. While I insist on formality on the bridge, and especially in combat, outside of that, there’s got to be some downtime.”
“Is that an order, sir?” Ruth asked brightly.
David shook his head while smirking. “Well played.”
Ruth laughed in return. “How are you holding up?”
“One day at a time,” David said before bowing his head and praying over the food.
After David had finished, Ruth continued the conversation. “I know… I found myself thinking this morning that the victory was great, but the cost. I question the cost.”
“Same here, but I remain convinced our cause is just. I also pray my children, should I ever have any, won’t have to fight this war because we’ll have won it for them.”
“Sounds nice in theory, but we have to live through it first,” Ruth responded.
“What about you? How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay, I guess. I read the list of causalities this morning, trying to see if I knew anyone. The few I did, I wrote a short note to their families. It seems after a while, it becomes numb.”
David nodded his understanding. “We have to be careful not to become numb to the horror of war, though. Otherwise, we’ll start either liking it or we’ll become twisted by it.”
“Like Colonel Demood?”
David raises his eyebrows sharply. “Come again?”
“It’s all over the ship, sir… he was stomping through the ship cussing your name yesterday, then he visited the doc shack and hasn’t been heard from since.”
David winced in spite of himself. “I’d rather not talk about it, if it’s all the same. It wouldn’t be right to.”
“I figured as much, sir. I hope he’s going to be okay. Demood is a good Marine.”
“Now that I can agree with,” David replied, glancing out into space. “Soon, we will rotate back to Canaan on liberty, get some much-needed repairs and downtime for the crew.”
David’s wrist communicator went off in between bites of food, indicating a text message.
“Another opportunity for us to save the galaxy?”
“No,” David commented, rolling his eyes. “Our resident reporter wants to use the comms room for a private conversation back to Canaan.”
“And you’re going to let her?”
“I don’t see a reason not to. I’d wager that her bosses want to talk about that stunt we all pulled.”
Ruth laughed. “You’ve got a soft spot for her. If anyone else on this ship asked you for that kind of favor out of turn, especially a civilian, you’d tell them to pound sand
.”
David suddenly felt quite self-conscious. Ruth, after all, did have a point. “Perhaps. But I feel like we owe her something. Besides, aren’t you two friends?”
Ruth shrugged. “We are, but I still distrust reporters. Admittedly, she’s one of the better ones. Got any plans for our shore leave back on Canaan?”
“I’m going to track down some of the families of those killed in this battle, the ones who live on Canaan at least, and pay my respects.”
Ruth’s face morphed into a frown. “You know, sir, it’s not your fault.”
“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is,” David said. Of course it’s my fault. I ordered them to their deaths. “The least I can do is tell their families they didn’t die in vain.”
“I think most of them know it, sir. After all, we’re all in, as they say, on this war. No one escapes the draft unless you have a genius IQ level or you’re unable to serve for mental or physical reasons. And even if you don’t serve in the CDF, they find something for you to do.”
David smirked a bit. “Yes, the government is very good at enforcing that particular rule. I don’t doubt you’re right, and most of those families understand what’s at stake. I think most of our citizens understand that if we don’t win, there’s no tomorrow. If we surrender today, there’s another holocaust. If the League surrendered, we’d all go home.” David paused for a moment as his expression turned somber. “But I know having someone come and tell you that your loved one made a difference, after the extended family goes home and the honor guard is gone… I know it means something because it meant something to my mother and me.”
“I can see that, sir. I just never got to experience it.”
“Be the change you want to see in the galaxy,” David replied with a smile. “Now what’s on your agenda for today?”
“I’ll be working with Doctor Hayworth, Major Merriweather, and the contractors on devising a way to link our scientific sensor arrays into the point defense system, and from there create a new fire control algorithm that allows for automated targeting and destruction of those confounded League stealth mines.”
