Fight the Good Fight

by Daniel Gibbs

  Kenneth’s face clouded over. “Colonel, I’m not here to ask for additional funds,” he began, clearly taken aback by David’s assumption. “I realize that contractors have a reputation for money grubbing, but I’m here to make sure this ship does what you need it to, when you need it to do it. Given the scope of work and the time allotted, there’s no way I can have you combat ready in thirty-six hours.”

  David nodded slowly. “I expected that. The military crew will keep working once we put her into space…I would appreciate it if your teams would be willing to transfer as much technical knowledge about the ship’s systems in the time we have left.”

  “Gladly, sir. But I’d like to offer our continued services once you put into space.”

  David’s eyebrows shot up as he began to reevaluate the lanky defense contractor. “I’m sure you’re aware I can’t guarantee the safety of civilians on this ship once we leave space dock.”

  Kenneth broke into a small smile. “Oh, of course, sir. We know the score, and my team volunteered. I believe that by the time you reach your rendezvous point, we’ll have primary weapons and shields fully online and operational.”

  David stood up from his desk and glanced up at Kenneth. “Perhaps I was bit hasty in my judgment of you, Kenneth.”

  Kenneth extended his hand; David took it and shook warmly.

  “This isn’t just a job to us, Colonel; it’s a calling. Most of my team are veterans, and regardless of the bean counters back on New Washington, we’re here to make these ships right. I hope to prove that to you.”

  David smiled back at the man. “You’ve already gone a long way down that road. Tell me, just how tall are you anyway?”

  Kenneth rolled his eyes. “If I had a credit for every time someone asked me that,” he said with mock annoyance. “Six feet, ten inches. It’s why I never got to serve on a ship. I did my four years on shore duty.”

  “Well, I hope you and your team can get us ready. I don’t want to have to fight, but I need to be ready to fight.”

  “Aye, sir. You’ll be ready. If you don’t mind, sir, I’d better get back down there.”

  David stepped back behind his desk. “Carry on, Mr. Lowe.”

  21

  The next day, David found a few spare minutes to put knickknacks out in his day cabin. As the commanding officer of a warship was never off duty during situations in which combat or adverse action could be expected, he slept near the bridge rather than in his larger stateroom below decks. In decorating the cabin, it had slowly become his own over the last forty-eight hours. Mostly due to his personal effects, the room had some character to it now that belonged solely to him.

  One of his favorite knickknacks was an inert hand grenade bolted to a plaque that read “Complaint Department, Please Take a Number,” a small “One” hanging off the firing pin of the grenade. It had been a gift from a Marine Corps master gunnery sergeant that served under David in a past assignment. It always got looks and was a great conversation starter to first-timers to his office.

  A buzzer sounded as someone rang the bell to his office.

  “Come in,” David said, causing the computer to open the door.

  A tall, striking woman walked in. David quickly sized her up. Her skin was coal black and her uniform had the flag of the African Union in the country position; below it was the Christian flag. She walked quickly into the room and came to attention stiffly. “Master Chief Rebecca Tinetariro reporting for duty as ordered, sir!” she announced in a rather posh British accent.

  David stood up from his desk and offered a smile. “At ease, Master Chief.”

  Tinetariro relaxed into a parade rest stance, and David walked around the desk, extending his hand. “Welcome aboard.”

  Tinetariro looked at the hand for a moment before taking it and shaking. “Thank you, sir.”

  David took notice of her vise-like grip.

  He gestured to the nearest chair. “Please, have a seat,” he said before walking back around his desk. She followed suit, taking a seat in the chair with very rigid posture.

  “I looked over your service jacket, Master Chief. Nearly twenty-seven years in the CDF,” David said, looking for some rapport. After all, Tinetariro’s position as Master Chief made her the senior enlisted person onboard the ship. For what they were about to do on such notice, she had to be in sync with the officers.

  “Yes, sir. I enlisted the week after the attack on Canaan.”

  “I see. Looking to drop two thousand pounds of freedom on our friends in the League?” David asked, a trace of a smile forming on his lips.

  For the first time, Tinetariro’s face relaxed just a hair and she allowed a small smile to grace her face. “Something like that, sir.”

  “I was drafted myself. Though by the time I came of age, the war had been on for ten years.”

  Tinetariro studied David for a moment. “I must confess, sir; I would have never expected to see a mustang be given a command like this.”

  It was something David had thought of as well. A mustang was an officer that had been enlisted prior and was generally looked down on by the rest of the officer corps, but more respected by the enlisted soldiers.

  “I was surprised by it too. But God works in strange ways sometimes.”

  Tinetariro smiled. “That he does, Colonel.” She glanced at the patches on his shoulder. “Orthodox, sir?”

  David nodded. “Born and bred,” he said with a smile. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say Christian for you.”

  Tinetariro laughed. “Methodist, sir, and I hope this ship has a good gospel choir.”

  David’s face lit up. He had heard a gospel choir before when Sheila had dragged him to a worship session. While not a Christian, he did find himself tapping along with the beat. “I’ve heard an old school gospel choir before. I quite enjoyed it.”

  Tinetariro harrumphed. “When I finish working them into shape, I’ll invite you, sir.”

  David returned to more serious matters. “I’m concerned that we’re putting into space with an untested crew, Master Chief. I need you to ensure our enlisted personnel are ready for action in the next two days as we make our way to the rendezvous point with the League.”

  Tinetariro made eye contact with David. “I’ll have them squared away, sir. You’ll think they’ve been gelled for six months when I’m done.” If I was still a young corporal, the way she smiled when saying that would make my blood run cold.

  “Glad to hear it, Master Chief. I’d better get back to preparing for our final briefing by General MacIntosh.”

  Tinetariro stood and braced to attention. “Yes, sir. Let me know if there’s anything you need from me, sir.”

  “Of course, Master Chief. Dismissed.”

  She turned smartly forward and left David’s office. He sat back in his chair for a moment, hopeful that she was just what the doctor had ordered in ensuring tight discipline onboard.

  After Tinetariro left, David continued to work on his briefing materials for General MacIntosh, detailing what was fully functional onboard and what remained to be completed. He was still compiling that list when his video link chimed with an inbound request from the general. He pressed the button on his tablet to initialize the link, and a moment later, General MacIntosh’s face appeared on the tablet.

  “Good afternoon, General.”

  “Good afternoon, Colonel. Ready to go?”

  “Yes, sir. Not quite one hundred percent, but we’ll get there.”

  “What’s not quite one hundred percent?”

  “Our weapons and shields are not fully operational at this point in time. The onboard engineering team believes that by the time we reach our destination in two days, we’ll be at full operational capability.”

  MacIntosh furrowed his brow. “I see. Does this have anything to do with some of the contractors not disembarking as planned?”

  David raised an eyebrow in surprise. How did MacIntosh find out about that so fast? He hadn’t told anyone. “Well,
sir, uh…perhaps.”

  MacIntosh laughed. “I have eyes in the back of my head, Colonel.”

  David nervously laughed to himself. “I see, sir. They volunteered.”

  “I heard that too. Rare breed, that lead contractor for SSI. He actually seems to care more about us than he does about squeezing the CDF for money.”

  “I noticed as well, sir.”

  “I really hope you have no need for those weapons or shielding systems, Colonel. I pray you don’t,” MacIntosh said earnestly.

  “Nor do I, sir. Though hope is not a strategy, so we must be prepared for any possibility.”

  “Quite right.”

  “I’ve put together a briefing for you, sir, on our status.”

  “I only have one question, Colonel. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then no further briefing needed. I’ll be monitoring your progress reports back to Canaan, and I urge you at all times to be as diplomatic as possible and extend all courtesies to Admiral Seville.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And if there’s any possible thought in your head about sticking it to that guy because of your history with him, you’d better dig a big hole, bury that thought in it, and put a rock over it. Are we clear, son?”

  “Yes, sir,” David said with clear directness in his voice. David had already come to that conclusion but having MacIntosh remind him one more time of the stakes did little to reassure him.

  “I have the utmost confidence in you, Colonel. Now get out there, bring Seville and his lot back to Canaan without incident, and help us win this war without firing a shot.”

  David sat just slightly taller in his chair at MacIntosh’s words. “Yes, sir!” he replied with a new determination in his voice.

  “Godspeed, son. MacIntosh out.”

  The picture blinked off, leaving David alone with his thoughts. While it comforted David to know that MacIntosh had confidence in his abilities out here all alone, being the man responsible for bringing Seville in safely and without causing a diplomatic incident scared David to his core. David projected confidence; it was part and parcel for being the commanding officer of a powerful warship. But there were times, alone and lost in his thoughts, that doubts surfaced within his soul, making him question so many decisions that he had made, and the things he had to do. Can I do this? Am I really the best person for this job? were common thoughts David had when he let it all hang out in his mind. As he normally did when these thoughts surfaced, he said a short prayer in Hebrew, asking God to give him strength and wisdom. Focusing back on the task at hand, he resolved to take one problem at a time. As Major Pipes used to tell him, “Work the problem. Solve one issue at a time, then move on to the next one, son.” The next item on the list was to get the ship launched successfully and meet the Destruction in two days.

  The chime on David’s office door rang, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Come.” His voice caused the door to unlock automatically. The hatch opened, and Sheila strode into his office. David’s face lit up. “Have a seat, XO.”

  “Not for long, I’m afraid,” she said dryly, plopping down in the chair directly in front of David’s desk.

  “If we do well on this assignment, I think they’ll let you stick around in the XO’s chair,”

  “I am trying to stay focused on the task at hand, rather than the possible future.”

  “One problem at a time.”

  “Exactly. Which is why I’m here,” Sheila said, her tone all business.

  David raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “I want to be sure you’re in the right state of mind for this.”

  “For making peace with the League?”

  “For meeting the man who killed your father and to make peace with him, as well as the League.”

  “I’m okay, Sheila.” He invoked her name for a more personal discussion.

  “David, I want to believe that, but the way you are acting shows something different. You’re putting up a great front, but I’ve known you for too long to believe the show you are putting on.”

  “I’m fine, Sheila. Seriously.”

  She was silent for a moment. “I’m praying for you and your ability to do this.”

  “I’ll take it. Even from a gentile.” David cracked a smile.

  “Hah,” Sheila replied before turning serious once again. “I don’t understand why they sent Seville. Of all the people in the League, they’ve got to send him. Why not a neutral representative?”

  “They are sending a neutral representative, actually. A diplomatic minister named Carl Jenner. Intelligence suggests he’s part of a faction within the League that has been pushing for peace.”

  “Interesting.”

  “How are we looking in terms of final readiness?”

  “In what way? All departments briefed ready at our last staff meeting.”

  “I know, but… are they really ready?”

  Sheila nodded her head empathically. “Yes. I’ve never seen a more motivated group of people than the set of people on this ship, from the military personnel to the civilians. They want success and they’ll do just about anything in their own power to make that success a reality.”

  “I’ve seen it too, but I wanted to hear it from you to be sure.”

  Sheila pointed to the clock on the wall behind David. “I think it’s about time for us to get up to the bridge and get this show on the road, sir.”

  David stood and offered her a smile. “That it is.” He straightened his uniform before stepping from behind the desk. “How the heck did we end up in charge of the largest warship in the Terran Coalition?”

  “Right place, right time?”

  David laughed. “More like wrong place, wrong time. I thought the weight was heavy with four hundred fifty personnel and a two-hundred-and-fifty-meter destroyer to command. This is something else entirely.”

  “Isn’t it the least bit fun, though?”

  “Oh, it’s like nothing else I’ve ever done. I wish my father could see it. While the Cohens have long served in the military, I’m the first to make it to colonel in at least a hundred years.”

  As they walked out of the hatch and into the passageway that led to the gravlift, with a bit of a smile on her face, Sheila commented dryly, “Don’t let it go to your head, Colonel, sir.”

  David laughed again. “Oh, that’s what you’re around for, XO.”

  They both laughed as they walked into the gravlift. “Deck One,” David said to the voice-driven computer that controlled the lift.

  “Deck One acknowledged, Colonel. Identity confirmed.”

  “I just realized I missed morning prayers again,” David said.

  “There’s mid-morning, lunch time, and evening prayers to make up for it.”

  “Very funny, XO.”

  Sheila turned on a dazzling smile. “I’ve been giving you crap about how many times you have to pray a day for nearly twenty years. You didn’t expect me to stop now, did you?”

  David laughed as the gravlift moved, shifting them both to the side. “I could order you to.”

  Sheila snorted. “Good luck, Colonel.”

  “However this turns out, Sheila, I’m glad you’re with me. I couldn’t ask for a better friend to have with me as my second in command.”

  Sheila turned to look at David and smiled. “I’m glad I can be here with you.”

  Two armed Marine guards stood at the apex of the passageway, and as soon as David and Sheila exited the gravlift, both of them delivered crisp salutes, which were returned smartly by David and Sheila. He paused and extended his arm, gesturing to the hatch to the bridge. “Ladies first.”

  Sheila rolled her eyes. “Going to hold the door for me too?”

  “I know better than that.”

  They both pulled their covers on as they walked into the bridge of the Lion of Judah together. As they did, Master Chief Tinetariro piped up, “Colonel on deck!”

  Ruth, Hampton, and Taylor were already at their
assigned bridge stations, awaiting the launch. The enlisted personnel stood and braced to attention along with the standing officers. Sheila stiffened as well, saluting David.

  David’s hand came up to his brow in the practiced motion of a salute. He looked around the bridge of the ship—his ship—manned and ready for the first time. After a moment, he finished the salute and announced, “As you were.” Immediately, the crew went back to their assigned stations.

  David glanced back at Sheila. “After you, XO.”

  Sheila smiled and took her station. David followed after a moment and took his seat in the CO’s chair. David looked forward to Hammond and Ruth, who sat directly in front of the CO and XO at their respective stations. “Navigation, what is our launch readiness?”

  “Sir, our reactor is powered up and operating normally. We are standing by to release moorings and umbilicals from the shipyard,” Hammond said.

  “Conn, TAO. Ship defensive systems and weapons are ready—at least the weapons currently functional—and all weapons magazines are full,” Ruth added.

  “So aside from a lack of fighters, we’re settled. And let’s hope our contractors can get our remaining weapon systems functional in short order,” David said as he looked forward.

  David glanced down at his command seat and punched up the code for MC1. The tone for it swept the ship, and he spoke down toward the microphone built into his seat. “Attention, all hands, this is your commanding officer. We are about to launch on the most important mission that any of us have ever attempted. That mission is to escort the League back to Canaan, so that peace talks may commence.” David paused for a moment. “This is a day I doubt many of us thought would come. I know that I can count on all of you over the next several days to give one hundred and fifty percent effort as we continue to make repairs and gain control over our systems.”

  David paused for a moment. “Very well. All hands, man this ship, and bring it to life!” he said, invoking the formal words to launch a ship.