Gates of Hell Read online

  The hatch swung open, and David walked in. “Hey, Calvin.”

  Calvin jumped out of his seat, going rigid at attention. “Sorry, sir, didn’t realize you would be dropping by.”

  “Please, sit back down. I’m not here as your CO. I’m here as your friend.”

  “Still surprised you’re willing to have anything to do with me,” Calvin replied, dropping back into his chair.

  David took a seat in the chair facing across from the tough Marine. “If I got rid of my friends after a bad conversation or some loose talk, I wouldn’t have any left.”

  “It was a lot worse than loose talk.”

  “Maybe. No one’s perfect. Besides, you do what I tell you most of the time. That’s a miracle coming from a jarhead.”

  Calvin snickered. “Fair enough.”

  “How’s your treatment going?”

  Calvin looked away. I’m so ashamed of what I did. I became the very thing I hate. Maybe I needed to hit rock bottom from shooting that man. “Rough. Doctor Ellison is excellent, but… well, it’s a long way back.”

  “The first step is the hardest one.”

  “Yeah. That’s what she says.”

  “Are you praying with her yet?” David asked.

  “Not yet. I can’t quite get there. She’s great at praying, though. If nothing else, she inspires me.”

  “Yeah, I had the same thought when she treated me,” David said, pausing for a moment. “Are you ready for action?”

  “I was born ready, Colonel,” Calvin answered with a cocky grin. Yeah, my brain may be scrambled, but I’m always ready to put down some Leaguers.

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely positive. You got a target?”

  David shook his head. “Not yet. But we’ve been on what feels like downtime long enough that something is going to shake loose before too long. Even if that something is the invasion of the League.”

  “Music to my ears. I want to be on the first shuttle heading toward Earth.”

  “Careful what you wish for. I expect we’ll be on the sharp tip of that particular spear when the time comes. Are you still speaking to Amy once a week?”

  “Yeah. Usually more.”

  “What about the family?”

  “Jess is supportive. She spent a lot of time with me while we were on shore leave, and it helped us patch our marriage up. Those comm credits you arranged to help us stay in touch are great. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Least I could do for a good friend and fellow officer,” David said with a broad smile.

  “Something tells me most guys would have kicked my sorry Marine ass to the curb.”

  David lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m not most guys. I think we’ve established that already.”

  “Yeah,” Calvin said and snorted as he laughed. “No, you are not, Colonel. However this ends, it’s been a fun ride.”

  “It ends with us finally achieving a lasting victory and going back to doing something besides killing for a living.”

  I don’t have the heart to tell him I don’t think I’ll make it to see that day, if it even happens. Still, Colonel’s a good man. I wish I were more like him. Calvin pursed his lips together while he shook his head. “What about you? How are you holding up?”

  “Not too bad,” David admitted. “I’m still dating Angie.”

  “I don’t get the reporter thing. She’s not Jewish, is she?”

  “No, she’s not.”

  “I don’t know a whole lot about Jews, but don’t you guys tend to marry other Jews, especially Orthodox practitioners?” Calvin asked with a quirky look on his face.

  “Yeah, there is that. Hey, I don’t know where it’s going. It’s just nice not to be alone, you know?”

  “I feel you. Nothing quite like having my wife snuggled up with me at night. I feel safe.”

  “You,” David began while laughing, “not feeling safe, Mister big bad Marine?”

  “It happens,” Calvin replied.

  “I’ll won’t poke you too hard on that one.”

  “Well, if you want to poke something, we can get some pugil sticks…”

  “I’ll pass. I heard about Taylor getting destroyed in a match with you using those things.”

  Calvin flashed a two-hundred-watt grin. “Yeah, he’s got some cute martial arts training. I’ve got superior skill with pugil sticks.”

  David just laughed.

  “Got any plans for the evening?” Calvin asked.

  “Nah. Wanted to check in on you, then off to grab a bite to eat and retire early. Last few days, I haven’t gotten a lot of sleep. I had to rewrite a technical manual.”

  “Don’t you have people for that?”

  “I do, but it's somewhat relaxing to do it myself. Yes, weird. I like to paint walls too.”

  “As in, painting the walls of a house?”

  “Yup,” David replied and nodded.

  “We’ve got robots for that.”

  “Yeah, but nothing quite makes my brain clear out like rolling a wall.”

  “Whatever you say, sir.”

  “Would you quit with the ‘sir’ stuff? Again, just here as a friend.”

  “Old-school Marine.”

  “Stubborn is more like it,” David shot back.

  “Sticks and stones...”

  David stood up. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, I’ll leave you to it. Take care, okay?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  David flashed a brief smile and turned around to walk out of the cabin.

  “Thank you!” Calvin called after him. I wish I felt as good as I led everyone to believe. Facing my past has been far harder than I ever expected. Some nights, I think I should’ve pulled the trigger when I had the chance. Then Colonel Cohen or someone else comes by and reminds me I’m still needed. Okay, Cal, time to quit feeling sorry for yourself. As he pondered, his face morphed between a frown, then a smile. He picked up the tablet and went back to his place in the book.

  3

  While the public saw the extensive briefings that had fifty people in them with finely honed graphics, impressive displays, and maps, Justin Spencer, president of the Terran Coalition, preferred the simple two-person briefing his secretary of defense and General MacIntosh delivered every week.

  No posturing, no bull, and advice I can trust in, Spencer thought as he walked into his usual conference room deep within Canaan’s government annex, which served as the headquarters for the Canaan Alliance— primarily made up of the Saurian Empire and Terran Coalition – and its Allied Expeditionary Force. Called SHAEF, or Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force, its mission was to defeat the League of Sol.

  MacIntosh and Secretary of Defense Dunleavy sprang to their feet as soon as they saw Spencer; both came to attention. It was easy to see the weariness on their faces: dark circles present under both eyes, drawn faces, and just a hair slower than usual jumping up to parade rest.

  Spencer strode across the room. “Gentlemen, please be seated.” He took his seat at the head of the table. The two close protection service bodyguards who stayed with him around the clock took up positions near the door after they closed it.

  “Good morning, Mister President,” Dunleavy said.

  “Thank you, William. Andrew, what do you two have for me this week?”

  “Same as always, sir. Overall update on the war effort, and our progress.”

  “Well, don’t keep me in too much suspense, gents,” Spencer replied with a grin.

  “First things first; the front remains quiet. We’ve still only had token attempts to probe our positions around Unity Station,” MacIntosh stated.

  “Good. Still perplexed by that.”

  “Our best analysts continue to believe that the League is unable to bring its entire fleet to bear due to political reasons, most likely around keeping its non-core worlds in line,” Dunleavy interjected.

  “That’s been our operating theory for nearly thirty years. It would be nice to get some confirmation.”


  “Yes, sir, it would.”

  MacIntosh cleared his throat and pressed on. “Our shipbuilding efforts continue on track, as they were last week. Still estimating three months before our anti-matter reactor-based heavy cruisers are online and operational. We’ll have to decide then if we want to send them on a standard shakedown cruise, or if we press them into service as soon as they come out of the yard.”

  “How many ships do we have ready for combat this week?” Spencer asked pointedly.

  “Counting Saurian assets, nine hundred twenty-three starships, including frigates, destroyers, cruisers, battleships, and carriers,” Dunleavy answered. “The first wave of Saurian-made Ajax class destroyers are entering service next week.”

  “Excellent news, William. Any movement on additional Saurian ground troops?”

  “Same answer as last week, sir. Not really,” MacIntosh replied ruefully.

  “Can’t say I blame them. Not sure I’d want to put millions of Marines on the line for a Saurian planet either,” Spencer said. “Have you two reviewed my request for options on liberating the border planets the League still controls?”

  “Sir, it’s my professional opinion that staging full-blown invasions over worlds with less than fifty thousand civilians on them is a poor use of our limited resources.”

  “You told me the same thing last week, William,” Spencer responded. “I’ve got the same answer… I want some out-of-the-box options. We owe it to the citizens of the Terran Coalition who remain enslaved by the League to rescue them. Period, full stop.” I swore an oath to defend the constitution and the citizens of the Terran Coalition from all enemies. Allowing the League to continue to hold our people hostage is something I won’t allow. Not with them finally on the run.

  “The problem is the planetary defense systems the League installed. They’re very effective and would bleed off our fleet strength precisely at a time where we need every last ship we can get our hands on,” MacIntosh interjected. “That said, the joint chiefs have reviewed your request, and we have a proposal. Send in a six-man space special warfare team, and determine if there is a way for us to surgically disable the defenses so the fleet and our Marines can stage a landing. Most of these planets have less than ten thousand garrison troops, and their morale has to be low.”

  Spencer couldn’t help but see the dirty look that Dunleavy shot toward MacIntosh; So my top two advisors don’t agree on this one. Pity, but so it goes. “How do you propose to get them down there without being detected?”

  “Latest generation stealth assault lander prototypes are quiet enough, low signature enough that the League’s computers won’t see them coming,” MacIntosh replied.

  “Got anyone in mind for the task?”

  “The Lion of Judah has been off combat assignment for a few months. I’m sure Colonel Cohen and the ships’ embarked special warfare unit would be up to the task.”

  “William?”

  “I concur, sir,” Dunleavy said, a trace of annoyance present in his voice. “I would propose the planet of Friederwelt for this experiment.”

  “Any particular reason?” Spencer questioned.

  “Because the planet is the closest that fits the profile to a recent spate of successful League attacks on our supply lines to Unity station. Once the Lion drops off her team, we could retask her to convoy duty and surprise the Leaguers.”

  “I agree, sir,” MacIntosh said suddenly.

  “Good. Then we’re agreed—send the Lion in.”

  “Yes, sir,” Dunleavy replied.

  “Any other items of note?”

  “No, sir. Everywhere else, we’re proceeding according to our plans. We should be able to commence the invasion of the League of Sol within the next six months.”

  “Music to my ears, gentlemen. Very well, I’ll let you all get back to your duties. Keep me informed as to the status of the Friederwelt mission.”

  “Yes, sir!” MacIntosh replied.

  Spencer stood up, and as he did, both Dunleavy and MacIntosh stood as well. It didn’t matter how many times he told them not to, they did it automatically. “Godspeed,” Spencer said as he turned to leave.

  Pausing to put his index finger in the biometric scanner to unlock his day cabin, David reflected on how the military had turned him into a human automaton in many ways. I get up every day at 0430 CMT, I do my morning prayers in my cabin, then I exercise and move on to shave and shower in less than fifteen minutes. On top of it all, I have the same breakfast every day. At least I’m dating finally someone.

  The hatch swung open after authenticating his identity, and he walked in. Even though most civilian ships had automated doors, the military kept using tried and true hatches that were heavy and resistant to fire, among other hazards. The lights turned on, and he took a seat behind his desk and smiled as he always did at the inert hand grenade that sat on a piece of wood, bolted to the top of his workspace. It bore the label “Complaint Department, please take a number.” A small piece of plastic with the number one printed on it hung off the pin. Of all the knickknacks he owned, it was his favorite.

  Starting with the outstanding administrative requests, he worked for two hours straight without looking up. Interrupted by his tablet, reminding him he had a 0800 CMT vidlink with General MacIntosh, he pulled himself away from the paperwork and turned on the vidlink app. Sitting up a little straighter, he initiated the call.

  A few moments later, MacIntosh’s unsmiling face appeared on his tablet. “Good morning, Colonel Cohen,” he said.

  “Good morning, General. Hope you had a decent night’s sleep,” David replied while smiling.

  “Why are you always so chipper, Colonel?” MacIntosh groused.

  “Well, sir, not always chipper, but the last few months haven’t been bad. You’ve had us on what felt like diplomatic babysitting duty. It provided, honestly, a quite needed decrease in battle rhythm for my crew.”

  “Don’t get used to it, Colonel. There’s still a rather large war on.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “I am personally waiting for the other shoe to drop. The League hasn’t done much to try to take Unity Station back, nor have they made any real attempts at reinvading our side of the galactic arm. I’m convinced something else is at work.”

  “You and me both, sir. We’re not ready to take the fight to them without new ships coming online, however.”

  “We’ve read the same intelligence, Colonel. In the meanwhile, I’ve got a few tasks for you.”

  “Yes, sir,” David replied. Maybe we’ll get a real mission out of him. The relaxed pace of operations is starting to affect our operational readiness.

  “What do you know about a planet called Freiderwelt?”

  “Only what I saw in the last overall intelligence briefing. Low population border planet, extensive mineral deposits, poor farming on most of the continents. It’s traded hands several times and is now held by the League.”

  “Excellent memory as always, Colonel. That’s about right. What’s not widely known is the last time it was captured, not everyone got out. There’s still Terran Coalition citizens on the planet… how many, we don’t know.”

  David’s eyes got wide. “I thought the entire reason we quit fighting over it was our people were fully evacuated, sir?”

  “It’s not always so clean in war, son. You ought to know that by now.”

  Don’t I ever. I’ll go to my grave with shame and guilt over many things I’ve done for flag and country. “I understand, sir, just shocked we’d leave civilians behind.”

  “President Spencer has demanded the CDF find out if there’s anyone left on the planet, and if so, stage an invasion. Intelligence believes there’s only a small League garrison left, ill-equipped and poorly trained. If that’s the case, retaking it should be a simple affair.”

  “There’s a but in there somewhere, sir,” David interjected.

  “Of course. The but would be the League has put some potent planetary defenses up aro
und the worlds it took from us. A frontal assault would cost us a lot of ships and lives. The Joint Chiefs are adamant that we not take the risk to save a few thousand civilians. As cold as it sounds, I have to agree with them.”

  “We could try to disable those defenses with a pinpoint strike,” David mused out loud.

  “Got it in one, Colonel. You’ll be deploying a commando team down there to perform recon, and if possible, determine how to take out their central control for the planetary defenses. If we could pull that off, the Lion of Judah, along with her Marine contingent, can deploy and secure the rest of the planet, once we plan and execute the op.”

  “Makes sense to me, sir. I’ll get Captain Singh on it.”

  “Good. Next item of business,” MacIntosh continued. “After you drop the team off, your next task will be to take up convoy escort duties.”

  “Uh, sir, with respect, isn’t that a task best suited for fast warfare assets? Specifically, destroyers and frigates?”

  “Convoy work too good for you, Colonel?” MacIntosh said, smiling for the first time.

  “Of course not, sir. It just seems like using a sledgehammer to kill a fly.”

  “The last three cargo convoys we sent to Unity Station were jumped by superior League forces, which included Rand class heavy cruisers. Rather than task a battlegroup with convoy defense, it's easier just to send you. You will link up with the DESRON 57 and her overall commander. You might remember him… Lieutenant Colonel Dyson.”

  David’s face lit up; he hadn’t talked with Dyson in many months. He had commanded the destroyer squadron, or DESRON, that David’s first command, the CSV Yitzhak Rabin, had been assigned to.

  “It’ll be good to see him again, sir. Who will have overall command of that mission?”

  “Dyson’s got strategic command over the convoy routes and protection, but you will have tactical command of any missions you run. No pissing matches. Clear?”

  “Crystal, sir.”

  “Good. Any questions for me, son?”