Mateus took a bite of chicken. “I can’t wait to get back out there. I am alive in the cockpit.” She bared her teeth. “It’s the most exhilarating feeling I’ve ever had.”
A smart-aleck remark came to Justin’s mind, but he decided against using it. “I got my Sabre up to fourteen Gs today.”
Adeoye’s eyes got as big as saucers. “Seriously? Fourteen?” He stared. “That is incredible. Did you have any blackout symptoms?”
Justin shook his head. “None at all. I was pulling back hard, coming out of a turn and accelerating toward a bomber. It just… happened.”
“I must try that myself.”
“You never talk about having someone back on Lagos, Adeoye,” Mateus said. “Got a lucky lady?”
“I do not.” He shook his head. “I’ve been too busy with school and my CDF duties to engage in courtship.”
Mateus grinned. “If you play your cards right…”
“Okay. You two can take that conversation somewhere else.” He harrumphed.
All four of them laughed loudly, and Justin continued to find his cares and concerns fading away. It felt good to be among friends.
Nightfall came and went in Lawrence City. Each hour seemed like an eternity to Jason Nolan as he waited for word of the outcome of the battles in Canaan’s skies. He’d taken a small dinner directly in the Oval Office and was sitting quietly, staring out the window into the beautiful night sky. The skyscrapers of the metropolis stretched into the heavens. One of the primary space elevators was visible from the White House until its lights disappeared into the darkness.
A soft knock came at the door.
“Come in,” Nolan called.
The door swung open, and Abdul Karimi entered alone. His face was ashen. “Sir, we need to talk.”
Nolan gestured to a chair in front of his desk. “How bad?”
“I spoke privately with General Irvine a few minutes ago,” Karimi said as he gracefully lowered himself into the seat offered. “In short, it’s not looking positive, sir. The fleet has begun a general engagement with the League forces, but while she’s publicly predicting victory to keep morale up…”
“Our chances aren’t that great?” Nolan sat back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. Part of him wondered why he’d ever run for the presidency.
“Sir, we’re convinced it’s only a matter of time now. You should reconsider evacuation along with the entire government. The Terran Coalition has a protocol for this type of event.”
“The Exodus fleet?” Nolan had received a briefing on it during his first week in office. Conceived of as a way to ensure the continuity of government and the Terran Coalition’s way of life, it consisted of enormous people-mover starships along with long-range military escorts. “Abdul, didn’t you tell me forcefully and repeatedly how underfunded and unprepared it is?”
“Desperate times, desperate measures.” Karimi put his hands on the desk. “Thirty-five years of peace has dulled our edge.” He shrugged. “It’s on all of us, sir. From the civilians to the service chiefs to the politicians over the last twenty years that constantly raided the defense budget to pay for domestic spending. I can’t help it now, but if we somehow survive, then I’ll pour my life into rebuilding the CDF into a war footing. None of that changes reality, sir. It’s time for you and the rest of the government to go. Let me stay and handle this for us all.”
Nolan sprang from his chair and walked to the windows behind it that overlooked the rest of Lawrence City. “Come here.” He pulled back the curtains and gestured. While it was dark enough that one couldn’t see the people, hundreds of thousands of tiny pinpricks of light from a candlelight vigil were visible. “We’re not leaving because they can’t.”
“Yes, sir.” Karimi pursed his lips. “And if the League defeats our fleet?”
“Then we’ll deploy the orbital defenses and launch every stratofighter Canaan has at its disposal. We will not surrender… and at some point, the nation-state ships will arrive.”
“Understood, sir,” Karimi replied. “I’d be remiss in my duties if I didn’t point out our planetary-based defenses—”
“Are out of date, weak, and poorly maintained. Yes. I know. And I’ll carry the guilt with me to my grave if I have to order those brave men and women into combat.” Nolan turned his gaze back out to the vigil. “We have to carry the day. Period. You tell Irvine to do whatever it takes.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“Do you need anything from me?”
“No, sir. We should have a rolling battle report ready in fifteen minutes in the bunker. If you’d like to join us.”
Nolan nodded. “Of course. But on your way out, would you ask them to send the White House chaplain up?”
“Sir?”
“I know… I’m not much of a religious man. But I feel the need to pray with someone.”
Karimi put his hand on Nolan’s shoulder. “I got down on my knees, too, and begged for Allah’s intercession.” He squeezed it. “We’ll get through this, sir.”
“I pray to God you’re right.”
12
One of the newer features of the Zvika Greengold, owing to its status as the de facto training carrier for the CDF, was a complete battle-simulation area with integrated holoprojectors. Capable of displaying any portion of a battle built from the information recorded from all friendly assets, it allowed an observer to see precisely what had happened—which was what Major Gabriel Whatley was doing at 2200 hours.
He’d been sure that Lieutenant Spencer was nothing more than a blowhard faker, skating by with only a passing interest in doing his duty. His assessments of people were rarely wrong, and Spencer’s service jacket screamed, “Here for the free school.” Still, a man such as that didn’t risk his life for others. So there Whatley was, going over and over Spencer’s actions. They painted a picture in stark relief to Whatley’s opinion. Not only was the man brave, he was also good.
A new voice jolted Whatley out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Tehrani standing in the open hatch. Jumping to his feet, he came
