It took a few seconds for Martin to answer. “Yes, sir.” His voice broke. “I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all we can ask of ourselves, and it’s all God asks of us.”
Martin wasn’t big on religion or faith, but Justin figured that Whatley was trying to console him as best he knew how.
“We’ve got your back, Lieutenant,” Justin added.
Martin shifted his head and made eye contact. “You promise me you’ll make them pay. We all will.”
“I promise,” Justin replied.
Silence again broke out, save for the mournful sound of the bagpipes. The caskets resumed their procession out of the ship, and Justin again felt surprised that he was still alive.
18
Though it was close to 2200 hours, Jason Nolan still sat quietly in the Oval Office. Since word of their dramatic last-moment victory coupled with the tragic loss of General Irvine and the tens of thousands of other CDF personnel had reached Canaan, events had proceeded at a blinding pace. He’d given an address to the entire Coalition over the emergency subspace communication system, signed a myriad of executive orders, and started the process of getting the country on a war footing.
So much for my domestic agenda. He’d been elected on a platform of revamping how the Terran Coalition conducted trade with the nearby alien races, and the entire nation had focused inward. We have for the last twenty years. Nolan had once said the CDF wasn’t the galaxy's policeman, and it was time for Terrans to see the benefits of their empire. Staring out into the night, he regretted those words. If instead, we had maintained the Canaan Alliance, how would this battle have been fought? Would it have even been fought at all? The only way ahead was to banish such thoughts from his mind and be a leader dedicated to winning the war.
A knock came at the door. It opened, and a member of his protective-service detail stuck her head in. “Mr. President, he’s here.”
Nolan motioned with his hand. “Send him in, please. And close the door behind him.”
The woman nodded and stood aside.
A moment later, Pradeep Singh Anand, the Speaker of the Coalition Assembly, entered. A tall man, he wore the bright-purple turban of a Sikh. He’d been the Speaker for going on ten years and was a member of a rival political party, the Liberals. They took the name from the old Australian center-right party on Earth and were an amalgamation of the center-right parties from all planets in the Terran Coalition. In other words, they were the direct ideological competitors to Nolan’s Liberal-Democrat party, which found its home in the center left.
“Mr. President, thank you for seeing me,” Anand said.
The door closed behind him.
“Never a bother, Pradeep.” Nolan respected the Speaker. While they had many areas they didn’t agree with each other on politically, Nolan found the man to be forthright and honorable. “Please, sit. This is as informal as possible.”
Anand took a seat in front of the Resolute Desk, an artifact from Earth once used by Winston Churchill, and crossed his legs. “I’m here not only in my capacity as Speaker but also as a representative of the entire Liberal party.” He paused, as if considering his words. “I know we don’t see eye to eye on most domestic policy issues… but I want you to understand I am personally behind you one hundred percent. As is the entire party. Whatever you need, you’ve got it. There will be no political grandstanding or attempts to hold up essential votes to score points.” Anand grinned. “If you propose eliminating the Constitution, well, that’ll get a response. But anything within reason, we’ll vote for it.”
The enormity of Anand’s comments took a minute to sink into Nolan’s mind. He pursed his lips. “Thank you. That means a great deal to me.” He raised an eyebrow. “Declaration of war?”
“Done,” Anand replied.
“We must expand the CDF and TCMC significantly.”
Anand nodded. “I agree entirely. If you’d like, we can start working on the legislative markup immediately.”
“I’d appreciate it. I’ve been sitting here tonight thinking about how we got here. The truth is some of these missteps are my fault, and some are my predecessors’. We’ve had control of the presidency for the last ten years and the Assembly for most of it. God, if I could go back. Scaling back our defensive and offensive military capability… the worst mistake we ever made.”
“There’s no point in assigning blame now. What matters is how we move forward. The entire Terran Coalition has enjoyed the spoils of peace. We thought we were invincible.” Anand snorted. “Well, that was a crock, and now our teenagers will get to pay the price for our arrogance and stupidity. I was reviewing the CDF war plans in case of invasion by an outside power of significant strength. We’re far enough behind the curve that it warrants a draft.”
Nolan shook his head. “I’d rather wait and see how many people volunteer. I think the lines will snake around every recruiting station in the Coalition come tomorrow morning. Perhaps we won’t need one.”
“With respect, Mr. President, that’s a dream. If for one reason and one reason only. This is a war for survival, and everyone in our nation needs skin in the game. If there’s no draft, we could eventually end up in a situation where the affluent and wealthy don’t volunteer. Such a thing would breed resentment and hurt morale.”
Nolan laughed, despite everything going on. “Pradeep, if I didn’t know better, I’d say one of my bright young left-wing speechwriters had fed you talking points.”
Anand rolled his eyes. “I think not.”
They laughed before Nolan continued. “I’m speaking off the cuff here,
