But Jack Winton wouldn’t be there to see it. He felt he had to get away from Columbia…start new somewhere. And he couldn’t imagine going back to operating a transport business, no matter how successful it was. Admiral Garret made him an offer to rejoin the reorganized navy at flag rank, as head of logistics and supply, and he accepted immediately. A massive new job was just what he needed, and he’d be posted on Armstrong, where he could be near Jill and help with her recovery.
The navy was restructuring in a number of ways, rebuilding, moving facilities. Things were likely to be very busy for a long time. Jack would have more work than he could handle, which meant less time to think about what had happened. And that was just the way he wanted it.
Armstrong’s yellow primary had just about set, and the capital city was beginning its extended twilight – the three hours before the red secondary also slipped beneath the horizon and the real night began.
The great Marine hospital had long been the only major installation on the planet, but the war years had seen a massive development boom. Armstrong wasn’t as big as Columbia or Arcadia, or even Atlantia. But it was on the verge of taking its place as one of the major worlds of the new Colonial Confederation. Its new role as home to the main Alliance/Colonial military headquarters would insure its continued progress into the top tier of worlds.
Its ranking just below the planets of the first order made it an ideal place for the Constitutional Convention that was set to convene the following month – large enough to host the delegations, but small enough to prevent rivalries between the major worlds.
The Hotel Armstrong had been about to open when revolution swept the planet, forcing commerce to a halt. Now the damage it had suffered during the street fighting had been repaired, and the Armstrong was ready for business; at least most of it was…there was still last minute work going on in one of the wings.
The dining room hadn’t opened yet, though for one night a private suite had hastily been put into use. A group, mostly old friends and some new, were gathered together. Responsibilities and duty would soon call them off in different directions, but for tonight they were all in one place. They were there to celebrate the end of the fighting and to bid farewell to other friends, for this war, like those before it, had left its share of empty chairs at their table.
“I am glad you could all be here tonight.” Elias Holm wore a brand new gray dress uniform, and on each collar was a cluster of five platinum stars, the rank insignia of the Commandant of the reconstituted Marine Corps. The uniform wasn’t all that different from the old one, but the design had been tinkered with a little, as if the slight changes somehow announced that things were different now. “There is an old quote; I read it long ago at the Academy. I have always remembered it, and I think it serves particularly well now. I’d like to share it with all of you.” He paused for an instant. “It is not tolerable, it is not possible, that from so much death, so much sacrifice and ruin, so much heroism, a greater and better humanity shall not emerge.”
He looked around the table, a grim smile on his face. ‘That passage always resonated with me. Not only because of the sentiments expressed, but also the context. The quote is three centuries old, and I think most of us would agree, a better humanity did not emerge. At least not on Earth.” He paused briefly, allowing those present to consider what he had said.
“We have fought and struggled and bled together, but we are not the first to do so, nor shall we be the last.” He looked around the room, at those assembled, all warriors in one way or another. “Let us remember as we go forward from this day that we must fight, not just here and now, but always…each and every day…so that a better humanity emerges at last. Let us never forget that words alone achieve nothing lasting, and only our ceaseless vigilance can safeguard the future we so earnestly long for.”
Holm raised his glass. “To a new future.”
“To a new future,” they all repeated, holding glasses high.
Cain spoke next, his voice somber. “The chance for that future was purchased, as always for such things, by blood and sacrifice. Thousands died so that the colonies might have this chance at freedom. William Thompson, my first friend in the Corps.” He glanced over at John Marek, who was sitting silently across the table. “Lucius Anton, one of the finest Marines…and men…I have ever known.” His eyes moved further down, settling on Jax. The big Marine was wearing his own new uniform, just like Holms’, but with a single platinum star on each collar. “Edward Sawyer, another hero of the Corps.” He paused, his voice wavering slightly. “The cadets, faculty, and staff of the Academy.” The room was silent. To die in battle was one thing, but the horrific attack on the Academy seemed so pointless, so wasteful, it had been especially difficult for them to accept. Cain raised his glass above his head. “To the honored dead…and to friends lost.”
Everyone rose, holding glasses high and repeating Cain’s words. “To the honored dead, and to friends lost.” They were silent for a few minutes, each thinking of brothers and sisters now gone…in this war as well as others they had fought.
Augustus Garret finally broke the silence. “The greatest way we can honor the memory of those who were lost is to protect that which they fought so bravely for. Some of you saw this coming.” His eyes fixed on Cain. “However, I did not. I have always considered myself to be aloof from politics, an attitude I now realize has been naïve.”
He scanned the table as he spoke. “I have tended to think of enemies in military terms – fleets and armies to be defeated in battle. But I have seen my beloved navy nearly seized from within by the machinations of those who would be our puppet masters.” Garret’s mouth was slightly clenched. He was trying his best to stay calm, but the thought of Gavin Stark’s scheme still enraged him. “As you, my friends, have seen your own Marine Corps nearly destroyed by treachery.” His eyes moved across the table, pausing for an instant as he faced each of the Marines present. “Indeed, both forces have paid the cost, in suffering and in needless death.”
Garret inhaled and let out a soft sigh. “Let us never forget that those responsible for much of what has happened are still alive…still in power and likely plotting even now. Gavin Stark is still the head of Alliance Intelligence, and Rafael Samuels is now openly a member of the Directorate.” Garret was restraining his anger with very limited success. “The realities of the current situation do not afford us the chance to pursue justice or a meaningful resolution, at least not now. Though we are here to celebrate the peace, let us never forget that it is but a brief truce. Let us remain vigilant and ready, for our enemies shall strike us again one day.” He stared out over the table, but his eyes were looking past all those present. “And, by God, we will be ready.”
Terrance Compton stood up and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Your words are wise, Augustus, and I believe everyone here agrees completely.” He swallowed hard, not anxious to say what he intended to say. “Perhaps the worst thing our enemies have done to us is to compel us to become more like them.” Everyone was looking at Compton, unsure where he was going with his comments. “We must rebuild the navy and the Marine Corps, and when we do we must never forget that both organizations were infiltrated by our enemies.”
Compton paused. “As we move forward we must purge our forces of anyone who is suspect.” He could feel the reaction in the room. They didn’t want to agree with him, but they all did. “We need not fear the enemy who launches himself against our defended gates, but rather the one who would sneak in and poison our soup. We must never be so easily and totally infiltrated again.”