The Cost of Victory cw-2 Page 24

  He talked with her for a long while, trying to help her deal with all that had happened. She was a young officer, and he was proud of how she had held things together. Terrified, wounded, alone…she had saved his life and gotten them rescued by a naval task force. Now that they were safe it started to back up on her, and seeing him again finally broke her control. The guilt of surviving when your comrades died is difficult to deal with; he’d been through it before, far too many times. But this was new to her. She’ll get used to it, Garret thought sadly. She’s young and smart and dedicated; one day she’ll be sitting in a chair like mine. Then she will really understand. I wonder how much of the young officer I know today will survive.

  After he spoke privately with Lieutenant Simon, he surprised everyone. “Help me out of this bed.” He was calling to a medical technician standing next to him reading from the bank of monitors over his head.

  “Sir?” The medtech stepped back and looked down at Garret, his mouth open with surprise.

  “I said help me get up.” He twisted his body toward the edge of the bed. “I’m taking command of the task force.”

  The medtech was a young lieutenant, and he suddenly found himself facing a problem well above his pay grade. In a near panic he tapped his communicator and called for the ship’s chief surgeon.

  But the chief surgeon, and the ship’s captain after him, did no better. Saying no to a fleet admiral was a practical impossibility, and once Garret was told communications with Epsilon Eridani had been cut after the invasion force had gone in, there was no dissuading him.

  The best they could do was convince him to wait while they fitted him for a customized medical pressure suit and helmet – a normal one wouldn’t have fit over the dressings on his many wounds, and without one he’d have been defenseless if the flag bridge lost pressurization.

  Now, to the chagrin of his doctor, he sat on the flag bridge as the task force transited to Epsilon Eridani and whatever awaited them there. Garret didn’t have complete battlegroups, just four capital ships and two fast attack squadrons, so he was going to have a hard time scouting and screening the battleships. But the lack of communication from the invasion force meant something was wrong; Terrance Compton would be in command, and if he hadn’t reported, something was indeed very wrong.

  He sent a single fast attack ship through first. He knew it was a one way mission if there were enemy forces guarding the warp gate, but he sent them anyway. The crew knew it as well, but they went without complaint. Unlike those manning the capital ships, the crews of the attack squadrons were veterans, and they knew what was at stake. If this was an ambush, Garret simply couldn’t risk the battleships. The attack ships were called suicide boats for a reason.

  This time, however, the scout came through its dangerous mission unscathed. Less than forty minutes after the ship transited, a drone returned, reporting that the area around the warp gate was clear. There were CAC scanner buoys and communications relays deployed, but no ships. Normally, Garret would have had the scouts search for and destroy all detection devices before the main fleet transited, but he didn’t have close to enough escorts to do the job, and he wasn’t willing to delay when Compton’s fleet might be in trouble.

  He gave the order to transit, and one by one the massive battlewagons fired their thrusters and disappeared into the warp gate, leaving only a faint blue halo to show they had ever been there. Garret knew the enemy would detect his presence and the composition of his forces, but it was unavoidable if he was going to come to Compton’s aid quickly. It might even be advantageous, he thought. He had no idea of the current situation, and it was possible that the enemy’s reaction to his arrival could even be beneficial. Certainly, it might take some pressure off of Compton, assuming his forces hadn’t already been destroyed.

  “The Saint Mihiel has transited, sir.” Jennifer Simon was still suffering from the effects of her wounds, but she insisted on joining her boss on the flag bridge, taking her unwillingness to accept no for an answer almost to the point of outright insubordination. “The fleet is fully assembled. The 23rd FAS squadron is positioned in the lead; the 19th is in direct support of the battleships.”

  It was almost a laughable formation. Four escorts scouting ahead and a single one attached to each battleship. Garret imagined the visual would have been amusing, with the lone 100 meter attack ship flitting alongside his two kilometer flagship.

  One thing was certain - Garret was going to make sure it was Lieutenant Commander Simon once this was all over. By rights, she had another three years to serve in her lieutenancy, but she’d earned her circlets early. “Thank you, lieutenant. Please prepare to broadcast a message on wide beam.”

  “Yes, sir.” She’d hesitated for a second and almost responded that the enemy would be able to intercept the transmission. Stupid fool, she said to herself silently, the admiral knows that better than you. A few seconds later: “Ready to transmit, sir.”

  Garret cleared his throat. “Attention Alliance naval forces. This is Fleet Admiral Garret, commanding Task Force Omaha.” He took a deep breath, wincing at the pain from his injuries. “Admiral Compton, you are ordered to report your status. I am inbound with the battleships Midway, Spotsylvania, Hampton Roads, and Saint Mihiel.” He gestured across his throat and Simon cut the transmission. Maybe that’ll take some pressure off of your people, Terrance, he thought. If any of you are still alive.

  “Set a course for Carson’s World, 10g thrust.” Lieutenant commander Reginald Harrison was filling in as tactical officer. Garret felt the loss each time he instinctively wanted to bark an order to an officer who was no longer there. Even Joker had been a casualty of the CAC assassination attempt. Both the AI’s primary system and the backups were destroyed along with Cromwell. Garret had a new command AI available, but nothing like the customized system he’d had for so many years. The quasi-sentient machines weren’t human, but bonds of a sort did develop, and users usually felt a sense of loss if an AI was destroyed. Of course, Garret had a lot of loss to deal with, though he’d shoved it all down deep for the duration of the current crisis.

  “Course calculated, sir.” Harrison was a little overwhelmed to be serving as tactical officer to the admiral, and it was apparent in his tone and mannerisms. Despite his best efforts to ignore the hero worship, Augustus Garret had become a legend, and effectively coming back from the dead was only pouring fuel on that fire. “Ready to lock into fleet AI.”

  Garret found the awed reverence he was getting from everyone annoying - and it only increased his survivor’s guilt - but he didn’t have much choice except to ignore it. They were heading into battle, and if serving under the “legendary” Admiral Garret was going to help morale, he’d put up with it. For now.

  “Engage in three minutes.” Garret shifted painfully in his seat, trying to get comfortable. He had refused any serious painkillers; he needed 100% of his sharpness and judgment going into an unknown situation. The acceleration is going to hurt like a son of a bitch, he thought somberly. Nothing to be done – I need to find out what is going on here. “Commander Harrison, order Captain Clinton to take her squadron ahead at maximum acceleration, full search pattern dispersal. She may execute when ready. I want to know what is happening in this system.” Clinton’s four ships weren’t close to enough to properly scout, but it was all he had, so it would have to do.

  “Yes, sir. Relaying orders now.” Harrison paused for a few seconds, listening to his headset. “Captain Clinton acknowledges, sir.”

  Garret only nodded. Yes, I have to know what is going on here, he thought. Then he gritted his teeth against the pain he knew would come when the engines fired up.

  Chapter 25

  Field Hospital One Epsilon Eridani IV

  The casualties had been flooding in, taking the already swamped hospital to the breaking point. Patients lay everywhere, in any spot where enough space could be cleared to hold a human being. General Holm had been relentlessly attacking toward 1st Brigade, and by
all accounts was making progress. But here, in this series of dank caves that Sarah Linden had turned into a massive medical facility, could be seen the cost of that progress, the bitter price paid in blood and pain for each meter of ground taken.

  Sarah felt like the walking dead, grimy with layers of dried sweat, her body aching everywhere, her head feeling like a saw had cut its way through. Her usually beautiful hair was matted and caked together, tangled and crusted with dried blood. She had been busy around the clock, living on stimulants and nutrition bars and trying not to think about Erik and his people on that besieged plateau taking everything the enemy could throw at them. There had been several thousand casualties since General Holm’s drive had begun, but still nothing from 1st Brigade, which remained cut off and unable to evacuate any wounded.

  General Gilson had calmed down, though she was still a difficult patient. Sarah had made a deal with her and performed surgery with the general’s consent, stabilizing the worst of her wounds. Then she kept her part of the bargain, providing Gilson with a comlink so she could communicate with her division. She wasn’t officially commanding them, but Sarah didn’t think anyone on the other end of that com was going to refuse anything the general “suggested.”

  She had just finished surgery on a badly wounded private. She stepped away from the operating table, wondering if the patient was going to survive, and hating herself for starting to lose the capacity to care the way she had before. So much death, she thought, what is one more? She was beginning to think none of them were ever going to leave Carson’s World anyway.

  “Doctor Linden, there are more wounded at the entrance. We need a doctor to supervise triage.” The voice was coming from one of the junior medical technicians.

  She turned to look. God, she thought, he looks young. For the first time in her life, Sarah Linden felt old. She wasn’t yet 40, but she’d seen more than her share of horrors. “I’ll do it.” She motioned for him to lead the way. She knew all her people by sight when this started, but try as she might, she couldn’t remember his name. Another few days of this, and she wouldn’t be able to remember her own.

  She walked through the long tunnel to the outside. She’d chosen this mine because it was deep in the mountainside where it was well-protected from enemy bombardment. Although it would certainly shake things up, and probably seal them all inside, she figured the hospital itself could survive even a nuclear detonation.

  There was sunlight hitting the ground ahead as she walked down the corridor. It must be daylight outside, she thought. It had been some time since she’d kept track of day or night. It was all the same deep inside the mountain. She half-closed her eyes against the dazzling morning sun as she walked outside. It was a beautiful day, clear and cool…a day she would have relished on Armstrong or Columbia, but here, amid the death and suffering, it only mocked her.

  There were transports lined up, dozens of them. This is the biggest load of wounded yet, she thought grimly. How can there be so many? “Ok, let’s get moving people.” The businesslike side of her took over, and she found herself barking commands without consciously thinking about it. “Let’s get them lined up next to the carryalls. Get them out of their armor. Call for the plasma torches as you need them.” She had three crews with the portable cutting tools. Marine armor was made to be tough, so when it was bent and twisted enough, the only way to get a wounded Marine out was with a nuclear-powered plasma torch. It was delicate and dangerous work – one slip could easily kill the patient or the operator. Or both.

  She had conscripted all the walking wounded and convalescing patients who were ambulatory, and they worked along the row of transports, helping to get the new arrivals unloaded. It wasn’t an easy job; those with operable armor could usually get themselves down, but the others were encased in several tons of high-density metal-polymer hybrid. A medic couldn’t just throw a wounded Marine over his shoulder and carry him inside. There were cranes and lifts, but not enough, so frequently the most seriously wounded were the last to get help.

  Sarah walked up and down the line of transports, supervising the unloading, and stopping to tend to the worst cases. She had just finished feverishly working on a badly wounded lieutenant – she’d stabilized him but she didn’t think his chances were better than 50/50 – when she looked up and saw four techs struggling to unload a large Marine from the next transport. His back was turned to her, but she could see his helmet was off.

  “Get Lieutenant Marek first.” Her head snapped around; she knew that voice. “He’s hurt worse than me.” The big Marine had a distinctive voice, deep, rumbling.

  “Jax!” Sarah shrieked, far louder than she had intended. “It’s you!” She ran over to the edge of the transport, looking up at the hulking colonel.

  “Sarah.” He winced as he angled his head down to look at her. “It’s good to see you.” He didn’t seem to be critically hurt, though it was obvious he was in considerable pain.

  “Let’s get him down.” She motioned to the techs struggling to help Jax out of the transport. “Now!” She looked back at the hulking colonel. “Jax, is…”

  “He’s fine, Sarah.” Jax managed a weak smile. “He told me to tell you he’s dying for one of Aoki’s burgers.” He winced again as they hauled him out of the carryall and laid him gently on the ground.

  Tears welled up in Sarah’s eyes. He’s ok; he’s really ok, she thought. He’d sent her that message so she’d know he wasn’t hurt. Aoki Yoshi was a PRC officer who’d served as liaison to the Alliance. He and Erik had become close, and Aoki had frequently talked about his days in Washbalt, when his father had been ambassador to the Alliance. Aoki had told Erik about his favorite burger spot, and when he and Sarah were on Earth they went out and found the place. Now it was his signal to her.

  She ran over and knelt next to Jax, trying to examine his wounds. “We need a plasma torch over here.” She looked back over her shoulder, shouting out the commands. “Immediately.” She turned back toward Jax. “I told both of you to be careful. I see you weren’t listening.”

  “Yeah,” he said, managing a pained smile, “you know Erik puts us through the wringer.” His expression turned serious. “He saved the entire expedition. You should know that.” He took a deep breath, wincing as he did. “The enemy was hitting us in force everywhere, and we weren’t prepared for it. By seizing that plateau he forced the enemy to hold up their attack, and we bled them like crazy when they hit us. He bought General Holm the time he needed.” He gave her another weak smile. “He’ll probably get a new medal, maybe two.” He started to laugh, then coughed and groaned in pain.

  Sarah smiled. “Erik doesn’t need another medal.” She put her hand on Jax’s armored shoulder. “And you need to rest. Let them get you out of this can, and I’ll patch you up myself.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t you forget, colonel…” She emphasized the colonel. “…I’m the boss here.” She stood up and started to walk away. “And now I have to get back to work. Unfortunately, you’re not the only one here who managed to walk into enemy fire.”

  She moved up and down the line of transports, driving her exhausted staff to even greater exertions. She had been about to take another stim, but the news that Erik was unhurt filled her with new energy. She was a dedicated doctor and an officer of the Corps – she would give her all to save any of her fellow Marines, anytime. But these were Erik’s men and women. She couldn’t help him out on that nightmarish plateau, but she could take care of his people.

  “Ok, let’s pick up the pace.” She addressed her entire staff on the com. “These Marines from 1st Brigade have been sitting on that plateau for days. I want them all inside and tended to, ASAP.” Even as she spoke, she heard the rumbling sound behind her. Turning around, she saw another column of carryalls full of wounded coming up the hill. “Faster, people, faster.”

  Chapter 26

  East of the Lysandra Plateau Epsilon Eridani IV

  Cain looked out over the massive alien cr
eation, understanding but still somehow knowing he could not truly grasp the staggering implications. It is odd, he thought. In some ways life will go on as before. Yet in others, in ways I cannot even imagine, things will never be the same, for me, for all mankind. We will never be alone again.

  General Holm stood next to Erik, staring into the depths of the great cavern with similar awe and shock. Cain had called him and insisted he come here, refusing to discuss what he had found.

  “I really don’t want to speak about it over the com, sir,” Erik had said. “If you ever trusted my judgment, do it now, general.” Cain’s voice had been steady as always, but Holm could tell that something had shaken him up, something other than spending a week under constant enemy attack.

  Holm had never before left his post in the middle of a major operation, but he trusted Erik Cain more than anyone else, so he delegated temporary command and left almost immediately. He had wondered while they were en route to the planet, but he could never have guessed the secret of Epsilon Eridani IV, not in a million years. Now he understood why Cain had been so circumspect, and he agreed completely.

  The two were silent for some time, looking out over the massive structure that dominated the cavern. “I want constant security on this site.” Holm knew he was giving a redundant order; Cain had already posted his special action teams to guard the entire area. “No one is to be allowed in without my authorization.”

  Cain was relieved; he wanted nothing more than to turn over the responsibility for this site to the general. “Yes, sir.” He paused, troubled.