Stand Firm, page 2
“I promise.”
“Will you let me know what’s happening once you get up there?”
“I may not be able to,” Levi said. “But if I can, I will. I’d better go get dressed. Hope I still have a clean uniform.”
Sarah glanced up and rolled her eyes. “I pressed all of them for you, dear. Take your pick.”
“Whatever would I do without you?” Levi said while laughing.
“Pay a dry cleaner to keep up with your wash.”
They both laughed. Ah, humor does help salve the soul.
“David’s birthday is tomorrow,” Sarah continued, her face suddenly somber.
Levi stared at his toes, his heart sinking. “I know. I’m sorry. After last year, I swore I’d be there the next time.”
“You owe it to him to tell him what’s going on,” Sarah said, not flinching from the topic.
“I’ll get my uniform on, and you go get him, okay?”
Sarah tilted her head up, and he leaned down to kiss her on the lips, holding it for several seconds. “Okay, love. You better keep that promise,” she said with a forced smile.
I am so lucky to have her, Levi thought.
“Count on it,” Levi said, his voice full of bravado.
2
Levi walked out the door, toward his helicar. His son’s voice echoed behind him, calling out.
“Dad! Dad!”
Levi turned and saw David standing at the edge of the steps into the house, his hand to his brow in an imitation of Levi’s salute.
A smile spread across his face, and Levi brought his own arm up, returning the salute in a crisp, practiced motion. “Take care of your mother, son.”
“I will, Dad!”
Turning his head so David wouldn’t see the tears welling up in his eyes, Levi climbed into the helicar and hit the autopilot control. After synching up with an orbiting satellite, it took off into the night sky.
Forcing the mental image of his son out of his mind, Levi tried to gather additional information on what was going on during the helicar ride to Canaan’s space elevator. It was a massive construct that stretched from the surface of the planet into space, allowing for quick and nearly free transport of people, materials, and munitions. This has to be the most effective communications blackout in our history. After flipping between a hundred holochannels, there wasn’t a single word about the emergency mobilization anywhere. Another point towards whatever this is being a civilization-threatening event.
Finally giving up, he spent the last part of the trip in silence, staring out into the night sky. The image of David standing at the end of their driveway, saluting him, just wouldn’t leave his mind. The thought caused a tear to roll down his cheek, while the fear of the unknown clawed at his insides. Once I understand the threat, then I can help to defeat it. This waiting… I’d rather do anything but.
His helicar entered the traffic pattern for the main base gate, which generally had two out of six entry lanes open. Tonight, all six were open, several makeshift inspection stations had been erected, and it took forty-five minutes to clear the traffic jam, even with the completely automated authentication system for access. Lines of enlisted personnel and officers snaked around the checkpoint, with guards performing manual identity checks. Another twenty minutes to park in a computerized garage and briskly walk to the embarkation point for fleet personnel. Tens of thousands of people, all in CDF uniform, converged toward the elevator. The pandemonium was more than Levi had ever seen in his life. I’ve been at concerts for the most popular bands in the Terran Coalition that had fewer people at them, he thought as he dodged quick-moving soldiers, the entire thing a mass of barely controlled chaos.
Portable signs had been erected in the overhead displaying ship names and assigned elevator numbers. After scanning the signs for what seemed like an eternity with thousands of other soldiers pressed about him, he saw “CSV Salamis – Bay E-31” scroll by. Hefting his space bag, he hurried toward the indicated space, arriving just before the doors shut. Few people spoke on the ride up, and Levi tried to clear his mind. The integrated communication link he carried, which functioned as something like a phone, computer, and medical tracking device all in one, vibrated on his belt.
Levi pulled out the commlink and stared at the screen. A text message appeared. “I was just informed of your assignment, sir. ETA? Captain Alysia Fisher, acting XO, CSV Salamis.” She seems a bit direct.
He typed a message back. “Twenty minutes to the belt, then whatever time it takes me to find the ship. Look forward to meeting you, XO.” Pressing the send button, he lay back in his seat, staring into the horizon as it shifted colors from blue to black, indicating that they had exited the atmosphere of Canaan. God, please give me a competent crew. Most of these men and women look like they’ve got one foot out of the service, just like me.
As the pod glided into the station that housed Canaan’s military headquarters and served as the central berthing area for the CDF fleet, Levi studied the ships docked. A lot more than usual here. Old stuff too. It made sense with the number of personnel he had observed, that the previous generation of ships and equipment would be pulled out of extended storage. Hope they got the mothballs out, he thought with a small grin. The doors to the pod opened, and the seat restraints lifted up. Levi and everyone else stood, pressing toward the exit.
Once outside the pod, the expansive station was full of people as far as the eye could see. Hand drawn signs were held above the crowd bearing the names of ships; Levi spotted one marked “CSV Salamis” and made his way as fast as he could over to the young woman carrying it. “Excuse me, Private, I’m Major Cohen. Could you point me to the Salamis’ docking port?”
“Captain Fisher sent me here to bring you back, sir,” she said. “Please, follow me.”
“Thank you, Private,” Levi said, falling in behind her as they made their way through the mass of humanity. A conversation was impossible, and he spent most of the time dodging fast-moving groups of soldiers and anti-gravity sleds carrying supplies. The further they got from the central areas, the more the crowds began to thin. Eventually, they reached the docking slip for the Salamis, and he put his best command face on. Necessary to show the others that I have no fear, no concerns, and project confidence.
As he stepped through the airlock, Levi pulled his cover on, expecting to find an honor guard and a basic change of command ceremony waiting for him on the other side. The hatch swung open, and he wasn’t disappointed. A dozen enlisted personnel, wearing blue and black camouflage pattern battle dress uniforms lined the passageway that lay beyond. Not quite in shape, and not as squared away as career soldiers. Looks like I got a crew of reservists to match up to me. A soldier wearing the insignia of a master chief bosun’s mate stepped forward and brought the traditional bosun’s pipe to his lips, trilling it to formally announce Levi’s presence onboard.
“Attention on deck,” a female officer, also in battle dress uniform with the insignia of a captain, announced, her voice sharp and sure.
All those present came to attention, hands snapping to their brows in well-practiced motions that had been instilled all the way back in boot camp; they may have been weekend soldiers, but the formalities of their profession never lost their hold. “Major Levi Cohen, reporting for duty as commanding officer, CSV Salamis,” he said, bringing his own hand up and returning their salutes with one of his own.
The officer who had called them to attention stepped forward and turned toward Levi. “Acting CO, Captain Alysia Fisher, sir. I stand ready to be relieved.”
“I relieve you, Captain Fisher,” Levi said in the most formal tone he could muster, his mind still racing.
“I am relieved. Computer, record that as of 1750 hours CMT, Major Levi Cohen is the commanding officer of CSV Salamis.”
After exchanging a tight smile with Fisher, Levi turned to the small group. “Thank you all for coming down here. I’ll address the ship later tonight, but you can hear it from me first. We’ve got to be underway and in space within the next eight hours. I’ve no doubt that while it’s a herculean task, this crew can handle it. I’ll be with you every step of the way. Godspeed and dismissed.”
The honor guard quickly broke up and walked away down the passageway. I’m sure they’ve all got a duty station and six repair tasks each, Levi thought as he closed his eyes and pushed away the enormity of the situation, forcing himself to take it one step at a time. He removed his khaki-colored cover and put it back in his pants pocket; while a change of command demanded wearing it, military protocol was that no cover was worn indoors.
“Tradition would be a tour of the ship and all major engineering spaces,” Fisher said. “Would you prefer to stick to that or head straight to the bridge?”
“Precious little time for tradition tonight, XO. Let’s head to the bridge, and perhaps you could brief me on the ship’s status along the way?”
“Of course, sir. Have you been on a Galahad class destroyer before?”
“I served on one—CSV Issus—as the XO.”
“Ah, that would explain your assignment here, then.”
“Nothing explains how CDFPER works, Captain,” Levi said with a snicker. “Lead the way?”
“Of course, sir.”
They set off and almost immediately came across a section of corridor that was blocked off. “Structural issues?” Levi asked, following Fisher on a detour around it.
“Nothing major, but you know how the mothballing process works. Contractors always forget something, somewhere. That and our supposed maintenance reviews weren’t that great.”
“I doubt anyone thought we’d be yanking fifty-year-old ships out of emergency reserve.”
“There is some good news,” Fisher said, flashing an expression that approximated a smile. “This ship has an upgraded fusion reactor, and its weapons were modernized about ten years ago. Not cutting edge by any extent, but better than nothing.”
Levi nodded approvingly. “I’ll take it. Any scuttlebutt on what we’re gearing up out there?”
“Honestly, sir, I was hoping you had some G2.”
“I couldn’t get anything out of the personnel officer that vidlinked me. I tried to reach my old CO as well as my detailer on the helicar trip into the space elevator, but none of my commlinks connected.”
“Same here. I can’t reach anybody.”
“I assume we’re facing an existential threat to the Terran Coalition.”
“Yeah, but what? I’ve heard some crazy theories. The comms team swears that they heard chatter indicating the Saurians are staging a sneak attack. Deck force claims that it’s a supernova, and the engineering guys say it’s a coup.”
Levi snorted; they stopped as they reached a gravlit. Both officers entered, and he pressed the button for deck one. On military ships, designers stuck with tried and true technology; everything was designed to be redundant, and instead of high-tech gizmos and gadgets, simple but effective buttons —switches and levers— were the preferred way. At least on mass-produced ships like this, he thought, getting a tactile response as the depressed button lit up. “Likely all wrong. The Saurians are almost our allies, we’ve put so much treasure into rebuilding them. I won’t comment on the implausibility of the others.”
“After we dismantled their empire and forced them to stop bullying their neighbors,” Fisher said.
“Point taken, but I believe strongly they’ve changed their tune as a people over the last fifty years.”
“You sound pretty sure of that, sir.”
“I served on a Saurian ship for two weeks as part of an officer exchange program. Different, but a great experience. Theirs is an honor culture, Captain. Anything that would bring dishonor on a Saurian personally is forbidden, and all of them has a responsibility to ensure nothing brings dishonor on their empire as a whole. The idea they’d stage a sneak attack is so beyond plausibility, I wouldn’t give it a second thought.”
“I see.”
“So, what works on this boat?” Levi asked with a grin.
“Most of our weapons, shields, and engines. We’re calibrating the LIDAR arrays, performing dry fire tests of all weapons, and troubleshooting why the forward missile outer doors won’t open.”
“That might be a problem. Wouldn’t want to have to blow part of our hull off to fire a missile.”
Fisher smirked. “No, couldn’t have that, sir.”
“What about munitions and supplies?”
“The water purification and creation systems are fully functional, so we’re fine there. We’re stuck with basic combat rations for food, and our magazines are empty as of now,” Fisher said, holding up a hand. “Before you get concerned, we’re due to receive a full loadout of missiles and magnetic cannon rounds within the next four hours. And… I called in a favor and got us a shipment of real food.”
Levi broke into a smile as the doors opened, depositing them into a short passageway that led to the reinforced doors for the bridge. “Not bad, Captain. Not bad at all,” he commented. “No sentries?”
“No Marines assigned to us, sir.”
“Sergeant-at-arms?”
“Several on board, sir.”
“Get two of them up here, with their sidearms. I want the bridge protected at all times.”
“Yes, sir.”
Levi pulled out his cover from his pocket and put it on as the bridge hatch swung open. Fisher did the same and followed him in. Military cover—slang for a hat—was always worn on the bridge of a ship. Looking around the room, he saw many soldiers working on consoles, wires and circuit boards strewn everywhere. The same master chief that had piped him onboard looked up from soldering a circuit and quickly dropped what he was doing.
“Commanding officer on the bridge!” the man announced in a loud voice, carrying across the din of conversation and repairs. Immediately, everyone stopped, came to attention, and saluted Levi, some crisper than others.
Levi raised his right hand to his brow and returned their salutes. “As you were. Carry on with repairs,” he said in a calm, confident voice. Less than eight hours to get underway? This relic needs a year in a repair yard.
“Major, allow me to introduce you to our senior enlisted soldier,” Fisher said, gesturing towards the master chief. “Master Chief Petty Officer Jorge Montero.”
“A pleasure, Major Cohen,” Montero said, stepping forward and extending his hand.
Levi took it and shook firmly. “Thank you, Master Chief. How’s the deck force doing?”
“Not quite to where I want them, sir. I’ve still got seven hours or so to whip everyone into shape.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Master Chief. Carry on,”
“Yes, sir,” Montero said before turning around to continue directing repairs. As he did, Levi took note of his right uniform sleeve. On most CDF soldiers, this was where the flag of the Terran Coalition was displayed, followed by the flag of the member state and religion of the individual if they chose to wear them. Montero wore the flag of the Republic of Spain and the Christian flag under it.
“What’s our personnel level, XO?”
“We’ll have enough onboard for one full watch and a half watch.”
“Not nearly enough,” Levi said, worry spilling onto his face.
“It’ll take careful personnel management, sir, to avoid tiring everyone out before whatever it is we’re supposed to be doing.”
“Agreed. Do we have a Tactical Action Officer assigned, XO?”
“Yes, sir, he’s up front,” Fisher said, pointing towards a tall man who was assisting a damage control team lift a console.
Levi waited for them to finish before continuing. “Introduce me, please.”
Without replying, Fisher stepped forward and called out toward the man. “Lieutenant El-Amin, over here.”
“Yes, XO?” El-Amin said, stepping away from the repair effort. “Ah, Major Cohen.” He extended his arm.
Levi took it and shook warmly, looking over his shoulder patches; El-Amin had the flag of New Arabia and the Islamic crescent and star directly below. “Good to meet you, Lieutenant. I see we’re neighbors,” he said with a smile.
“We are?” El-Amin looked puzzled until his eyes moved over to Levi’s uniform. “Ah, I see. New Israel?”
“Born and bred.”
“Arabia Prime for me, one parsec over.”
“What I don’t understand is why both of your countries colonized planets with large deserts on them,” Fisher said. “I mean, come on, there’s plenty of better worlds out there.”
Levi laughed. “It’s what we know. Besides, I prefer dry heat over humidity.”
“Amen, brother.”
“I understand from the XO you’re conducting dry fire weapons tests?”
“Yes, sir. Progressing very well except for the missile tube doors. I’ve got a team out on the hull in space suits now, working the problem. Worst-case scenario, we’ll cut the doors off with plasma torches.”
Levi nodded, impressed with the young man’s ingenuity. Now this is someone I will like. He thinks on his feet and comes up with a way to solve the problem that isn’t in the manual. “Very good, Lieutenant. I’ll let you get back to it. We’ll have a department head meeting at 0100 to discuss final preparations.”
“Thank you, sir,” El-Amin said before he turned away and returned to testing the weapons.
Levi got out of the way and walked back to the middle of the bridge, away from the dissembled consoles. “Is 1MC operational, XO?” he asked, referring to the ship-wide intercom that was heard in all spaces when activated.
“Yes, sir. That works too,” Fisher said, cracking a smile for what seemed like the first time.
Levi walked over to the CO’s chair and fiddled with the buttons that controlled the 1MC; a small cover opened, and he lifted out a microphone from it. A relic of a by-gone era, it was something most CDF ships still carried, mostly for nostalgia. He lifted it up to his lips and spoke. “Attention, all hands, this is your commanding officer, Major Levi Cohen. I know that none of us were expecting to be called to duty tonight, much less trying to get an old ship into space in a few hours. I suspect most of you are scared, wondering what’s going on, and if our families will be safe. Nothing to be ashamed of there, because I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to having a knot in my belly right now. But… we trained for this. Some of us have trained for it a very long time. We are soldiers of the Coalition Defense Force, sworn to defend our republic from any enemy, foreign or domestic. I know I’ll be able to count on every man and woman, enlisted and officer, throughout this vessel to do their best. Carry about your duties, work hard, work fast. Godspeed,” he finished before dropping the small mic back into its holder.
