Chapter 11
The wardroom of the Guadalcanal was sparse, just a few bare metal tables and about a dozen chairs. She was an older ship, a fast assault vessel of the Peleliu class, and she showed her age. My last posting had been on the Gallipoli, one of the first ships of the new Ypres class, slated to replace the old Pelelius. The newer ships were no more spacious - real estate on a spaceship was always at a premium - but the common areas were definitely nicer.
I'd bounced around to several units over the last few years, the result of my unfortunate streak of getting wounded in each of my first three assignments. After my third wound I got another transfer and my promotion to corporal. I made two drops as the junior two-striper in the squad and then I was transferred here to take over my own fire team. Just about half my military career had been spent in the hospital, and each time I got the best care possible, just as Captain Jackson said I would.
The war that everyone had been anticipating while I was on Tombstone finally became official. The Third Frontier War had begun, and we were fighting both the Caliphate and the Central Asian Combine. We had our hands full, outnumbered and facing more threats that we could effectively counter.
I was waiting in the wardroom to meet the platoon's senior corporal, who was going to help me get acclimated and introduce me to the four other members of my fire team. I needed to get them comfortable with me quickly, because we were on the way to an assault, and it was a big one. Tau Ceti III was the Caliphate's largest and most important colony world, and a major strategic hub. We’d been pushed back in the first two years of widespread fighting, but now we were taking the offensive; we were taking the war to the enemy. Operation Achilles would be the biggest assault in the history of warfare in space, and every reserve, every logistical asset that could be scraped up had been committed. I was anxious and hopeful, determined that my fire team would be among the best in the entire operation.
My thoughts were interrupted when the hatch slid open and a man in a slightly rumpled set of duty fatigues walked in. He was around my age, maybe a year or two younger. His brown hair was closely cut but still somehow just slightly messy. I'd become very "by the book" military, and I was always meticulous with my uniform and my appearance, a trait I obviously didn't share with my new acquaintance.
"Corporal Jax?" I got up as he walked over. "I'm Erik Cain." He extended his hand. "I'd like to welcome you to the platoon."
I clasped his hand and we shook. He was fairly tall, but when I stood up I towered over him. "The pleasure is mine Corporal Cain."
"Please, sit." He motioned toward the chair where I'd been seated, and he dropped into the one next to it. "You are taking over a good team, one of the best. I know, because they were mine." He was friendly, but I could also tell he was taking his measure of me. As I was doing with him.
"I can promise you I will do my best to look after them, Corporal Cain."
He smiled and leaned back in his chair. "I appreciate that. And it's Erik, please."
"I'm Darius." I relaxed a bit in my chair, though my posture was still better than his. "I want to thank you for taking the time to welcome me into the unit. I know how closeknit a group a good platoon can be. The troops can be a little apprehensive when they get a commander from outside rather than one promoted from within."
He nodded approvingly; it was clear he had similar thoughts. "I completely agree." He was looking right at me, his eyes boring into mine. "I've read your file, Darius. I'm sure you'll be a great addition. But if I can help get you off on the right foot with the troops, it's the least I can do." There was a soft buzzing sound - he was getting a message on his earpiece. "Excuse me, Darius, I just have to attend to something quickly." He was getting up as he spoke. "I shouldn't be more than ten minutes, and then we'll go meet your team."
"No rush. I'll be here when you get back."
He looked back over his shoulder. "Help yourself." He pointed toward the dispensers on the far wall. "Believe it or not, the coffee's actually pretty good." The hatch slid open. "I'll be right back." He walked out into the corridor, and the door slid shut behind him.
I didn't know it then, of course, but I had just met someone who would be very important to me, a colleague and my closest friend. I had respected the lieutenant and some of the other troops I'd fought with, but Erik was the first real friend I ever had. We would fight side by side for years, and climb the ranks together. He would save my life more than once, and I would save his, and the two of us would make face challenges neither of us could have imagined sitting in that wardroom.
But looming ahead of us before any of that was Operation Achilles. Morale was good; we were anxious to get at the enemy, to end the war in one bold stroke. Of course, that wasn't to be. Achilles turned out to be a bloody mess, a disaster that almost lost us the war then and there. We had some dark and difficult days ahead of us.
My first few years in the Corps hadn't been easy and, though I didn't know it yet, the next few to come would be even more difficult. But as I sat there and took stock, I came to realize that I had indeed found a home. Yes, we fought and struggled, and some of us died, but there were things on the frontier worth fighting for. When I was discharged from the hospital on Armstrong I spent my month's leave on the planet. I had the time to just look around, and what I saw amazed me. The people were busy, industrious…and free.
They were having local elections when I was there, and half a dozen candidates were running. I stood one day and watched a live debate in the main square. I was mesmerized - they were actually arguing issues and hurling pointed questions at each other. It was nothing like Earth, where the elections were a farce and the government controlled every aspect of its citizens' lives. These people were building a future, for themselves and for mankind, and we were here to protect them.
It made me think about Earth and wonder why the people accepted the system that oppressed them so badly. It was a nightmare, a grotesque, a hideous perversion of the human condition. But it worked, after a fashion. The Cogs were ruled by deprivation, by the need to focus solely on the basics of survival. The middle classes were governed by the fear of losing what they had. They could see how the Cogs lived, and to them, not born to such deprivation, it was a terrifying prospect. Part of me resented that they, mostly educated and vital to the functioning of society, meekly accepted the system when they could have agitated for change. I wanted to despise them as cowards and blame them for the plight of the Cogs, for the reality that my parents were forced to live.
But it is easy to make such judgments, and far more difficult to be honest with yourself. If my father had been offered a middle class life, if we’d been able to live in an apartment in the Louisville Downtown or the Washbalt Core instead of some miserable leaky hut on the farm…I’m not so sure I wouldn’t have been ruled by the same fear of losing it. I like to think I would have fought for change, but I’m not so sure. I would now, of course, but then, never having seen what was possible? I just don’t know.
But none of that mattered anymore. By a bizarre road I had found my path. For the first time I felt my life had purpose and I knew the sacrifices were worthwhile. I was finally home.