Echoes of War Box Set, page 21
part #1 of Echoes of War Series
David nodded, smiling. “Well, glad to have you on board. Though I am not entirely sure I’m looking forward to us playing the League’s anthem on our flight deck.”
She made a face. “I’m not looking forward to playing it, sir.”
David laughed. “Well, hopefully, it will help toward a lasting peace.”
“I hope so, sir. I really do. We all do.”
“Carry on, Master Sergeant, and thank you for a beautiful ceremony,” David said, preparing to leave.
“Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” she said in response as he turned and walked out of the cargo bay.
26
Inside of the large officer’s gym on the Lion, TCMC Lieutenant Colonel Calvin Demood took out his stress on a punching bag, dressed in his workout clothes as opposed to a duty uniform. Stepping back a moment for a breather, he saw Lieutenant Robert Taylor at a nearby station practicing as well. He watched him for several seconds before Taylor dropped his hands from the bag. He decided to strike up a conversation.
“Pretty good for a comms geek, Lieutenant.”
Taylor glanced over to him and flashed a quick smile. “I grew up fighting, Colonel. My father made Master Guns, not to mention some uncles, an aunt, and a few older cousins in the Marines.”
“But you became a comms geek?” Calvin asked with a chuckle.
“Well, you go with your strengths. I’ve always been good working with technology and signals.” Taylor made a face. “And I’ve already heard all the tech geek jokes from my cousins, so you don’t need to bother.”
“Hey, I’m too experienced to pull that crap on you computer nerds, had too many of you guys pull me out of the fryer.” Calvin laughed. “So do you think this is going to work out? This peace stuff?”
“Well, who knows? The League’s never talked peace before, but after all these years, you never know how they’re feeling about it.” Taylor shrugged. “I mean, think of how they acted toward us, attacking almost out of the blue, and you wonder how many other civilizations and nations they’ve pissed off and who want a piece of them. I know they’ve angered the hell out of the Saurians as it is.”
“Oh really? Guess you learn those sorts of things listening to conversations for a living all day.” Calvin smirked at him. “So, want to show this hard-ass Marine officer just what your cousins taught you? I’m tired of smacking punching bags around.”
Taylor returned the smirk with one of his own. “Sure, Colonel. I’ll even go easy on you. Wouldn’t want you to break a hip trying to keep up with a young guy like me.”
“A wise guy too. Damn, you must have had an interesting family. Well, let’s hurry up so I can kick your ass in time for a shower before meeting our guests.”
The two men walked over to a sparring mat and faced off. Calvin asked, “Are we boxing or doing martial arts here, Lieutenant?”
Taylor smiled. “Anything you want, Colonel.”
With that, Calvin stepped forward and threw a standard sucker punch at Taylor, thinking that the young man was all talk and little experience. He might as well have thrown a paper airplane. Taylor dodged the punch by stepping to one side and brought his arm down sharply, striking him on his elbow, inflicting pain and a stunning blow. A couple of Marines that had been watching the exchange in passing interest stopped what they were doing and stared.
“Ah, martial arts it is, then.” Pretty quick on his feet for a comms guy.
Calvin closed the distance between them and delivered a series of karate moves that Taylor deftly met blow for blow. Taylor then stepped into the attack, grabbed his right arm, and flipped the older man on his back. Standing over him, Taylor stuck his arm out. “Best of out three, Colonel?”
Calvin grabbed the arm and helped himself up. “Sure, but we’re doing pugil sticks next.”
David stood in front of the mirror in his main cabin, which was more of a small apartment than a stateroom. Having served on smaller ships for most of his career, he was used to the cramped quarters of destroyers and frigates. On the Lion, however, junior officer’s staterooms were larger than his old commanding officer’s quarters on the Rabin.
Above all else, he hated wearing dress uniforms. Tonight’s dinner called for full dress, and David’s uniform had to be immaculate. He also had to wear his entire set of campaign ribbons, pin insignia, and medals. He found the entire display to be ostentatious, as he tried to downplay any rewards or recognition that he received.
David had on occasion turned down three Purple Hearts, an award that carried over to the CDF from the American military that was awarded for being wounded in combat. I don’t deserve medals for minor wounds that barely slowed me down. The men and women who lost limbs, suffered irreparable brain damage, and were maimed for life… they’re the ones that deserve it. Not a fleet officer in full control of his body.
He fastened the block of campaign ribbons to his right, his medals to his left, followed by his Space Warfare Officer insignia, and Command-In-Space insignia. David considered the medals and reflected on his mixed feelings. On one hand, he was proud of his efforts for the cause, a cause he believed in with every fiber of his being. What wasn’t lost on him, though, was that he was in effect rewarded for killing his fellow man. That fact caused him great guilt and it tore at him every time he let it catch up with him in his thoughts.
David knew that fighting the League and killing those who fought for it was required, but he also knew that most of its soldiers were conscripts, brainwashed into fighting, and that those who wouldn’t fight were shot. That didn’t stop him from looking down at his hands and seeing blood when he reflected on his past deployments. Pushing those thoughts out of his head, he tried to focus on the task before him tonight, ensuring as much as he could that the killing stopped.
The chime to his door sounded. “Open,” he said nearly automatically, knowing that Sheila was on her way to walk with him to the hangar deck.
Sheila strode into David’s cabin, put together and ready to go. “It’s almost time…done preening yet?” Sheila asked in a playful tone.
“You know I hate dressing up.” Sometimes I wonder at how she teases me. It’s almost like she—likes—me.
Sheila laughed. “I’d enjoy it more if these uniforms were remotely flattering.”
David couldn’t stopped himself from snickering, which got him a withering look. “How are preparations going?”
“The mess stewards are preparing the meals using VIP fresh food for once; the honor guard and band are in place. I have to tell you, no one is interested in hearing the League anthem played,” Sheila said with a bit of a smirk.
“I actually prefer the basic frozen meals.” David finished fastening his final medal. “Getting invited to the chief’s mess is even better,” he said, reminded that the chiefs ate the best on any ship.
He turned to face her. “Are you okay, Sheila?” The use of her name indicated openly between them that this was a moment between friends, not commander and subordinate.
“I’m just worried, David,” she said. “I know you’re hoping this turns out for the best, but now they’ve got the man who killed your father here.”
“I know, but I’m not upset about it. He was the guy in charge, sure, but not the man who ordered the attack,” David replied, but inside, he knew that wasn’t entirely true. As much as he tried to suppress it, he couldn’t push out of his mind that Seville was the evil that caused twenty-seven years of war. He ought to pay for what he’s done.
“David…I know you better than that. I know that you’re bitter about it, but you can’t let that get to you,” Sheila said, putting her hand on his arm. “We need peace, David. You must remember that.”
“How can I not think about the fact that my father died ramming his flagship…and the tens of thousands other fathers, mothers, sons, and daughters that perished at that battle, Sheila,” David snapped, pain and frustration breaking through his carefully crafted mask. “I think we’re negotiating openly with a pack of liars who didn’t give us much of a chance for peace before they sent an armada to try and destroy our home world! I’m thinking of all the good men and women I’ve met in my life who are dead and gone because the League kept attacking us even when we don’t do a damned thing to them! I’m thinking that there can’t be any peace at all with the League, so long as they believe they and they alone have a right to decide how people should work, believe, and live!”
“David…” Sheila said with a look of grave concern on her face.
Before she could finish interrupting, David brought his hand up and continued to speak. “And, above all else, Sheila, I’m thinking about how much I hate doing this job.” When she made no move to continue, he followed through on this statement. “I don’t mind being a soldier. Always thought I would. I never liked being told what to do and when to do it, but I ended up being a pretty decent soldier. What I do mind is having to go out every day and kill other people, even people as bad as the League. Killing our fellow man... that’s not something we should be able to do lightly, even if we think they deserve it. We have no right to take life as easily as we do. The press of a button and thousands die? We talk about being nations under God…one of the Ten Commandments: thou shall not murder. Oh, we hide it, we justify it, but when one of our bombs goes off target and kills a hundred civilians, what does that make us? What have we become?” he asked in a rhetorical manner, taking a breath before he continued.
“So, yes, I think this is going to go nowhere. I think the League’s going to keep trying to grind us under until one or both of our nations are destroyed, but it doesn’t matter, because if we can have an end to this killing, even if just for a few decades, that will be well worth having to sit across the table from the man my father died fighting and eating a peaceful meal with him. Oh, I’ll even gladly toast his health if only it brings an end to this war,” David said with emphasis on the final few words. “And we’re going to be late if we don’t start walking now.” He forced an uncomfortable grin at her and walked toward the door.
Sheila turned her head and began to follow him, her face a frown with her mouth hanging open.
I may have overdone it a little, there. Okay, David. Time to get your head on straight.
27
In the cavernous flight deck of the Lion of Judah, the ship’s company had literally rolled out the red carpet for the League delegation. There was an actual red carpet for the League officers to walk out of their shuttle on, along with the flags of the Terran Coalition and the League of Sol, displayed on poles off to the side. The Marine Band and the honor guard, also Marines, were in full-dress uniforms, consisting of bright red uniform jackets, polished belts with gold buckles, and smartly pressed white pants, finished off with spit-shined black shoes. Looking over them as he strode onto the flight deck in his own full-dress uniform, David chuckled to himself. Leave it to the Marines to always be the best dressed. He made his way over to the drum major and complimented her on the band’s appearance. “So are we entertaining the President of the Coalition or the Admiral in charge of the League invasion of Canaan?” David asked the Master Sergeant Poirier.
She looked back at him, coming to attention along with the rest of the Marines. It was customary on a ship that the commanding officer, or any officer for that matter, had honors rendered upon first meeting of the day by any given enlisted personnel. The Marines, though, seemed to love to salute at the drop of a hat. “As you were,” David said to the band, and they all relaxed. The way Marines all moved together like a human wave had always impressed David. He doubted he would have succeeded as a Marine.
“I’d much rather it be the president, sir, though he would have his own band,” she said with a smile.
“The President’s Own, right?” David asked.
“Yes, sir. It’s the most elite group of musicians in the Coalition Marine Corps. Someday, I’d love to play with them.”
“Never give up on a dream. Before you and the band disembark, I’ve got to hear how you decided to join the Marines to be in the band,” David said, grinning.
Poirier laughed. “I get that a lot. It’s a fun one.”
“We’d better finish getting ready. I understand that the League really likes to be punctual. Something about the trains running on time,” David said with a smirk. “Carry on, Master Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir!” Poirier said crisply.
David strode over to the rest of his senior officers: Sheila, Hanson, Calvin, Amir, and Dr. Tural. Master Chief Tinetariro was present as well, with a contingent of enlisted crewmen in dress uniforms.
“Ready to go, ladies and gentlemen?” he asked them with a smile.
Sheila spoke for the group. “Oh, yes, sir. We’re just longing to have dinner with a shuttle full of League officers. Anything for peace, right?”
An announcement filled the flight deck. “League shuttle arrival in thirty seconds.”
“Okay, everyone, look alive!” David’s voice carried across the deck.
The Marines braced to attention, as did the enlisted crewmen. David and the rest of the officers took their positions as the League shuttle glided into the bay and set down gently next to the red carpet. After a moment, its side door opened, and a small honor guard strode out, goose-stepping down the ramp. Admiral Seville led the way, followed by several officers in full dress uniforms. A man in civilian attire came toward the end; David recognized him as the diplomatic minister, Jenner. As the last Leaguer exited the shuttle, Master Chief Tinetariro trilled her bosun’s pipe, piping them aboard with honors.
The gunnery sergeant in charge of the TCMC Honor Guard announced in a formal voice, “Arms, port!” The Marines snapped their gleaming rifles to port arms. “Attention, colors!” he bellowed.
At this, the band stood and began to play the anthem of the Terran Coalition; every member of the TCMC and CDF within the bay stood at attention and saluted. Admiral Seville and his officers also brought themselves to attention but did not salute. Minister Jenner placed his hand over his heart in what David thought was a show of respect.
As the final bars ended, there was a pregnant pause by the band before they then began to play the anthem of the League of Sol. Admiral Seville and the rest of the League contingent brought their hands up to their brows and smartly saluted their colors. David, and everyone else silently stood at attention. Standing here, listening to this music, is tearing me up inside. I can’t begin to believe the Marines aren’t hating this even more than I am. He forced himself to remember that it was a small indignity for peace, and well, the League just rendered honors to the Coalition flag, so maybe it evened out. The League anthem ended, and the band sat down again.
Seville stepped forward and addressed David. “Permission to come aboard, Colonel?”
“Permission granted, Admiral.”
“Allow me to introduce Diplomatic Minister Jenner, leader of our peace delegation, Colonel Strappi, the morale officer onboard the Destruction, and Fleet Captain Antonov, the commanding officer of my flagship,” Seville said, his face stoic and betraying little emotion.
“A pleasure, gentlemen,” David said, shaking hands with the League officers and Minister Jenner. “Allow me to introduce my senior staff: Major Sheila Thompson, executive officer, Major Arthur Hanson, chief engineer, Lieutenant Colonel Calvin Demood, Marine expeditionary force commander, Lieutenant Colonel Hassan Amir, flight wing commander, and Dr. Izmet Tural, our chief medical officer.”
Seville politely shook the hands of the senior officers as David introduced them.
“If you will follow me, sir, we have a dinner prepared in your honor,” David said as a way of wrapping up the introductions.
“Thank you, Colonel. I would be delighted,” Seville said with a smile on his face. As the League delegation walked away with David, Seville took the lead.
One of the nice things about a gigantic ship, David pondered, is that it has various rooms and venues that a smaller destroyer simply doesn’t have. On the Rabin, if they’d ever had a VIP onboard, which was unlikely to begin with, the wardroom would have been used for a dining hall. But on the Lion, they had a purpose-built dining room for guest VIPs. Following procedure, the Lion’s senior officers were in attendance, and Admiral Seville had brought his senior officers and staff. Not quite one for one as the regs suggested, but it was close enough. He’d reluctantly allowed Dr. Hayworth to join the dinner after Major Merriweather had suggested repeatedly that Hayworth was highly thought of, even in the League. Maybe he’d find some common ground with them. The last thing he needed now was the temperamental doctor causing problems in what needed to be a productive discussion.
David was seated at the head of table as the commanding officer, Seville was seated at the other end, and the various officers were intermingled with each other. The League’s senior diplomat, Minister Jenner, sat on David’s right.
Mess stewards brought in the first course of the meal as small talk was exchanged amongst the various guests. Jenner glanced at David. “Colonel, I must confess, we were shocked that you were sent to escort us.”
David raised an eyebrow in question. “Why is that, Minister?”
Jenner offered a small smile. “Our intelligence service was not aware that the Victory Project was this close to completion. It took us by surprise.”
David returned the smile while the wheels turned in his head. Why would he let that slip? “Perhaps the League’s intelligence gathering within the Terran Coalition isn’t what it used to be,” David said, trying to inject some humor and wondering if what he really meant was that they were astonished that David had been chosen to command the ship provided for escort, given the history between his father and Seville.
“Perhaps,” Jenner said with a polite chuckle. “Tell me, Colonel, how do you view our chances for peace?”
David eyed Jenner. Sheila, who sat several chairs down on the left, overheard Jenner’s question and looked toward David with a cautious expression. “I’m not sure, Minister. I’m hopeful that we can come to an agreement. No one in their right mind wants to get up each morning and go kill people.”
