It added up to a picture that Tehrani didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone accept. Yet her duty still called. The desire to reenter the fight, help defeat the League, and save the billions of civilians on Canaan raged just under the surface of her soul. It competed with another desire—to inflict pain on the enemy and make them pay for the death and destruction they’d spread. Her mouth curled into a snarl as she thought of the judgment that awaited the so-called League of Sol.
Wright’s voice brought Tehrani out of her thoughts. “Colonel, we need to stay on stand-down.”
“Very well,” she agreed reluctantly. “Focus your efforts on propulsion and the hangar. Shields are secondary, while the weapons are a tertiary concern.”
They stared at her quizzically.
“Getting to the battle and launching our fighters is the primary objective if the fleet needs us. In that situation, nothing else matters.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Wright replied.
Some of the others appeared as if they wanted to argue, but the XO’s words carried finality.
“Thank you all,” Tehrani said. “You’re dismissed.”
As the group filed out, silence descended over the conference room. She stared at the ship’s seal on the wall along with the flag of the Terran Coalition. The Latin words of their motto Semper tempus meant “Always in Time.” I hope if the call comes, we’re able to answer.
The mess hall was busy with dozens of officers, many of them pilots. Justin just wanted to be alone. He waved at a few friendly faces, including Martin. The big Australian had a group of bomber drivers at his table, all bragging loudly about the capital ships they’d polished off.
Justin felt deep within himself that the battles weren’t over. Officially, the ship was on a damage-control hold, with repair crews laboring to repair holes in the outer hull and patch critical systems. Something in his soul kept repeating, “This isn’t over.”
So he ordered dinner and waited for the call to return to his Sabre. He replayed the previous engagements repeatedly, including Feldstein’s expert save. Without her, I’d be dead now. Still, he pondered what had caused him to go all holovid hero. The action was completely outside of his normal personality.
Whatley appeared at the side of Justin’s table. He seemed to have a stealth mode, able to mask his approach at will. “I’ve reviewed the sensor records of the battle, Lieutenant Spencer,” he began without preamble.
“Uh, yes, sir,” Justin replied. He didn’t spring to attention or rise from his seat, remembering that customs and courtesies didn’t apply in the mess. If he was being honest with himself, not showing Whatley that respect made Justin feel good. Why is he questioning me again? I got his point last time, loud and clear.
“You disobeyed a direct order and engaged multiple hostiles,” Whatley said. “While apparently ordering your wingmen and other friendly forces to bug out to home plate. Is that accurate?”
Justin set his jaw. “Yes, sir. I wanted to ensure the safety of my people as much as possible.”
“And you did that by ignoring orders?”
“Because otherwise, one of those League bombers might’ve gotten through and blown up the Greengold, sir.” Justin folded his arms. “It was the right call.”
Silence followed for a few seconds. Whatley stared at Justin, as if he’d discovered something unique about him. “I see.” He raised an eyebrow as if in deep thought. “Carry on, Lieutenant.”
As Whatley turned on his heel and strode off, Justin felt troubled by the interaction. Is the Major upset about my actions, or does he approve? It was another stress factor in an already-untenable situation. He sighed and went back to waiting for his food to arrive.
“So this is where you snuck off to,” Feldstein called.
He whirled around to see her, Mateus, and Adeoye standing a few feet behind the table. “Uh, hey, guys. Come on over. Have a seat.” He forced a smile.
“Whatley come over to rip you a new one?” Mateus asked. “He’s just mad we have more kills than he does.”
“It doesn’t all come down to kill ratios and counts,” Adeoye interjected. “There is more to flying than such metrics.” He took a seat across from Justin. “Isn’t that right, sir?”
“Yes. It’s not about individual performance. It’s more to do with how we function as a team.”
Feldstein pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “Wow, look who’s getting gray hair,” she joked. “Whatley must be getting into your head, Spencer.”
Justin chuckled. “No.”
As they sat and bantered, some of his stress released. That he’d come face-to-face with certain death only a couple of hours before remained a strange dichotomy. He questioned repeatedly why he’d chosen to turn around and stage a last stand. The best he could come up with was a desire to see his friends survive.
“You seem like you’re pretty far away, sir,” Feldstein said, turning the conversation from jovial to somber.
“Just thinking,” Justin replied.
Mateus slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m going to have to step up my game,” she said. Her accented English seemed to get more of a lilt as she got progressively more exhausted by combat. “I can’t have our flight leader running up the score on me.”
The peals of laughter that erupted from the table were interrupted by the mess stewards’ bringing out the meals all four had ordered. Once each plate had been set down along with drinks, they left them to their food.
Justin picked up his fork and ate with gusto but stopped when he realized that both Feldstein and Adeoye had bowed their heads. He paused out of respect for his friends. I’ve never known either of them to pray before eating.
“Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean for you guys to stop,” Feldstein said as she glanced up. “Just giving thanks.”
“To whom?” Mateus snorted.
“God.”
Before a debate could break out, Justin interjected, “Personally, I’m hopeful we’ll have the block on communications lifted soon.”
“I’d love to talk to Robert,” Feldstein said. “This might sound crazy, but I miss him more after
