Echoes of War Box Set, page 18
part #1 of Echoes of War Series
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.
“Navigation, release all moorings and umbilicals,” David stated, looking back to the front of the bridge.
“Aye, sir, releasing,” Hammond stated.
It took a few minutes for the thick tubes connecting the ship to the drydock to detach from the Lion’s hull. The airlock also detached and retracted, and dozens of small shuttles pulled back.
“Conn, Navigation. We’re now free of all moorings and umbilicals, sir,” Hammond said.
“Navigation, all ahead, dead slow until we clear the drydock.”
“Aye aye, sir, bringing main drives online.”
The Lion slowly began to move forward, and David could feel the G forces pressing him back into his seat, fighting the dampener fields that protected the crew from sudden acceleration and deceleration forces. Creeping at first, but gaining momentum, the shipyard faded from the forward view screen, leaving open space in its wake.
Taylor cleared his throat. “Conn, communications, receiving a message from CDF command. ‘Good luck, Godspeed, and be careful.’”
“Communications, acknowledge the message. Navigation, there are a set of rendezvous coordinates pre-loaded in. Please set our Lawrence drive to them.”
“Conn, navigation. Coordinates set. Lawrence drive at maximum power.”
Fighting down a wave of adrenaline, David leaned forward. “Navigation, open the hole, all ahead full.”
A massive artificial wormhole opened in front of the Lion of Judah; a construct of the Lawrence drive. The Lion’s sub-light ion engines flared at maximum thrust, and the ship flew straight into the center of the swirling mouth of the wormhole. In a moment, she disappeared and the wormhole closed behind her.
22
After the transit through the wormhole, it took several hours to fully recharge the massive Lawrence drive within safe parameters in order to avoid stressing the drive. Taking advantage of the downtime, David decided to go to the synagogue, also known as a shul to Orthodox Jews, onboard the Lion. The Lion held four different chapels: one dedicated as a synagogue, one as a Christian church used by all dominations, one as a mosque, and the last was used by other faiths, including a small group of secular humanists that met once a week to discuss the happenings of life and how they interacted with the universe. David had been remiss in visiting the synagogue since he had come onboard, and had conducted the morning, afternoon, and evening prayers in his office or quarters. But he longed to spend a few minutes around other believers, reciting the prayers of the Talmud and so he decided to simply make the time to join them. As he walked into the synagogue, he took his tallit gadol, or prayer shawl, out of the bag. A simple cloth carrying bag, it was embroidered with his name in Hebrew and was a gift from his mother dating back to his bar mitzvah.
David put the shawl over his head and took a seat in the back, not wanting to draw attention to himself as the commanding officer of the ship. Notwithstanding this, an older man immediately made his way to David and sat down next to him. “Allow me to introduce myself, Colonel. Rabbi Erez Kravitz.”
David looked over the man; he was somewhat squat and appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties. Kravitz looked the part of a rabbi. He wore a prayer shawl as well, and under it, he had on a CDF duty uniform. David could make out from his rank insignia that he was a lieutenant colonel in the chaplain corps.
“Pleased to meet you, Rabbi. I’m David Cohen,” he said softly, not wishing to introduce his position or disrupt the other people praying.
“Ah yes, the commander of our vessel,” Kravitz said with a twinkle in his eye.
“I’m just here as a Jew, Rabbi,” David said, again trying to deflect any attention.
“Come now, Colonel. You are too modest.”
“Just trying to live what I believe, Rabbi.”
“Are you Orthodox?” Kravitz asked, a touch of surprise in his voice.
“My parents were both Orthodox, and I am as well. I’ve had to make some compromises to CDF regulations. I think you’d find I line up pretty well with the Modern Orthodox movement,” David explained.
Kravitz looked at him intently. “What compromises might those be, Colonel?”
David fought to keep a grimace from crossing his face. He did not want to get into a religious debate with the rabbi onboard his ship, and nearly any time he attempted to explain his motivations, it caused a debate. “As I am sure you know, Rabbi, while there are broad allowances for religious exemptions for conscripted soldiers, a career officer such as myself must maintain CDF personal appearance and grooming regulations. As well, I am often unable to observe Shabbat, and many other of our holidays.”
Kravitz nodded thoughtfully. “I would be curious as to your reasoning for this position, Colonel.”
David flipped a mental coin and decided to explain his reasoning to the rabbi; after all, he thought to himself that it would be nice to have a friendly relationship with the only rabbi within a few million miles. “I apply the principle of Pikuach Nefesh to my service in the CDF,” he said, referencing the principle in Jewish law that the preservation of human life overrides virtually any other religious consideration. “Given that we are at war, and my calling appears to be that of a solider, I must discharge my duties to the best of my ability.”
“I understand. I know that must be a difficult road to follow, but I commend you for your efforts to remain true to HaShem.”
Inwardly, David breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Rabbi.”
Kravitz patted David’s arm. “Please, come back as often as you can. I think where we are going, we’re going to need as much help from HaShem as He can possibly give us.”
David nodded. “I agree, Rabbi. Wherever our mission will take us, we cannot succeed without His help.”
Kravitz nodded and stood up, walking back to the front of the synagogue. David bowed his head for the next ten minutes and recited prayers from the Talmud before interjecting a plea to God. In Hebrew, he said, “Adonai, please bless this mission. If it is your will, please let there be peace, even with these vile and evil people. Too many have died, and I have so much blood on my hands. If it is not to be, please spare the lives of my crew and let them return safely home to their families.”
David raised his head after finishing his prayer. He never asked God, spoken as HaShem in conversation or Adonai in prayer, to allow him victory. He asked only that the lives of those under his command be saved, for he felt it was to embrace vanity to ask for victory. Standing and walking to the back of the room, he removed his prayer shawl and returned it to the bag his mother had given him. Exiting the synagogue and returning to his duties, he felt refreshed for the first time in several days.
“It’s good to see you back in this role, Antonov,” Pierre Seville, fleet admiral and overall commander of the League of Sol military expedition to claim the territories of the Terran Coalition, said as he shook the glass of brandy he held. His flagship, the League Starship Destruction, was on its way to meet up with the new CDF ship; the Lion of Judah. What an… odd name for a warship. No doubt based on a religious superstition.
Zehnya Antonov, the captain of his flagship, took a drink from his own glass, as he peered intently at Seville. “I’m glad to be here, Admiral. You plucking me from retirement was, well… it was the answer to an old man’s wish.”
“Farming carrots and goats not doing it for you?”
“No, Admiral. I felt useless. Discarded.”
“Same as I did, during my rehabilitation.”
“How’d you get out of it?”
“Much the same as you,” Seville said, his mouth curled up in a smile. “I had a benefactor that saw my potential.”
“You are too kind.”
“Nonsense. The League needs good officers.” And above all, I need loyal followers. “It’s a matter of matching the right people to the right positions.”
“I live to serve,” Antonov said as he finished his brandy.
“Your family, how are they?”
“Far better now that my wife doesn’t have to crawl on her hands and knees for root vegetables for us to eat.”
Seville’s face turned red. “An outrage.”
“Sir?” Antonov said, the unmistakable tenor of fear entering his voice.
“What our political commissar overlords do to cover their own ineptitude.” At the look of outright terror that crossed Antonov’s face, Seville only grinned. “Captain, do you really think I don’t have my quarters swept daily for surveillance systems? There’s nothing to fear here.”
“How do you do it, sir?” he asked very quietly.
“Simple. I watched how they play each other, and then copied it. I obtained leverage over the political officer—Colonel Strappi—that was assigned to my first ship after my rehabilitation. I allow him to think he has some level of power. I remind him when he oversteps that I could ruin him in an instant and cause him and his entire family to be put to death. He is weak. I am strong. It is the way of things. I’ve even ensured that relatives of his received plum postings they couldn’t otherwise qualify for. It pains me to say it, but he’s quite a sentimentalist, for a morale officer, that is.”
“Regardless, Admiral, I am in your debt.”
“Tell me; what of the crew? What do they really think about our mission?”
“Some desire peace. Some hate the Terrans as much as they hate us. Some don’t care and simply do their jobs,” Antonov said, shrugging his shoulders.
“And you?”
“It would be nice to see an end to this war, Admiral. I’ve seen so many young ones under my command die in service of the state. It would be refreshing to see them grow old and have families of their own.”
Seville poured another glass of brandy for each of them. “You may count me among those that hate the Terran Coalition,” he said, briefly touching a hand to his right eye. “They took my eye. More accurately, a single Terran who longed to die as a martyr took it from me. His son is coming to meet us.”
“I didn’t realize, Admiral.”
“Or did he?” Seville mused. “If Colonel Lemieux had an IQ higher than fifty, we would have defeated the Terrans twenty-seven years ago. I wouldn’t have lost my eye.” Rage built within, expressing itself as his face turned blood red. “The hundreds of thousands of League sailors that died would’ve lived.”
Antonov sat mute, the look of fear back.
“It was not to be, Captain. Instead, I took the fall and spent fifteen hard years planting crops in the semi-arid dirt. It might have been enough to break most men, but not me. I was even more motivated to destroy the Terrans when I returned to the fleet.”
“Of course, sir,” Antonov finally said.
Seville let his facial expression go slack. “I also live but to serve the League. If the Social and Public Safety Committee want peace, then I will gladly carry their ambassador and do everything in my power to achieve it. In my heart, I may want to kill every last one of them, but I will do my duty. We can do nothing less as members of the League.”
“At least we’ve survived this long, Admiral.”
“Yes… yes, we have. It’s growing late. We’ve an eventful day in front of us tomorrow.”
Antonov seemingly got the hint instantly and stood. “Thank you again, Admiral.”
“Do your duty, do it well, Captain. Make me proud. Dismissed.”
23
David climbed up the last rung on the ladder to the central space traffic control area in the massive fighter bay of the Lion. He found himself next to the station where the “Air Boss” sat, along with her assistant, the “Mini-Boss.” Titles that carried over from generations of naval aircraft carriers were at home on the Lion. David watched dozens of fighters and bombers from the CSV Pat Tillman land in the bay, taxiing to assigned parking stations. An hour or so earlier, the Pat Tillman had jumped into the transfer point and started ferrying over its entire combat capable fighter wing. The Pat Tillman was an American-designed Wade McClusky class light carrier, carrying roughly eighty combat spacecraft. Like most other carriers in the CDF fleet, Wade McClusky class carriers possessed little in the way of anti-ship weaponry and formed the nexus of a Carrier Space Battle Group (CVSBG).
David had been curious to know who Pat Tillman was; the Americans named most of their ships after famous people. David was surprised to find out that Patrick Daniel Tillman was a professional football player from Earth who was killed in combat during the early 21st century. After spending a few minutes reading his biography, it was clear to David that the Americans revered Tillman because he volunteered to join the military after achieving every possible success in life. He had insulated himself and his family from any want or need, yet he’d still answered the call to serve.
He continued to reflect on that as the fighters continued to touch down; after all, in the Terran Coalition, regardless of nation-state and with only a few exceptions, every eighteen-year-old male or female was drafted into either the military of their nation-state or the CDF. Men were drafted for four years; women were drafted for three. The compromise in mandating women to serve a shorter period than men had been key to gaining passage of the Universal Draft Act in the early years following the appearance of the League of Sol. The idea of a society where only a few made the choice to serve struck David as a foreign concept.
As the final fighter came to a halt, David took his leave of the flight control crew, walking out of the control room and down a stairway to the flight deck. As he did, the memory of his first meeting with Amir leapt into his mind.
