She turned to Ty before stepping in. “I’ll call off the tanks in descending order, so the one currently fitted is twelve. I’ve placed them in order of remaining air, from least to most. So, whatever I call off for each tank, the next has at least that much.”
Ty nodded. “I really don’t like sending you alone, but it’s the best chance we’ve got.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Just call out tank and remaining air, unless there’s an emergency. Don’t spend a lot of time blabbing to keep me happy. Just focus on the op.”
“No problem, sarge.” She leaned closer and whispered, “I know you’re a corporal, from the Delta armory, but what the hell. You make a convincing company sergeant.” With that, she stepped into the airlock and pressed the cycle button. She pulled the breather on as the pressure in the airlock dropped to match the floor below. “Twelve, one minute fourteen,” she said over the comms.
“Eleven, one minute twenty-six.” Ty was listening for any hint of heavy breathing or strain, worried that she could run out of air long before expected. “Ten, one minute thirty-five.” The wait in between each call seemed to last an eternity. “Nine, two minutes.”
Ty was counting the seconds in between calls. It was closer to two minutes fifteen when she next called. “Eight failed. Seven, two minutes sixteen.”
“I’m at the panel. Cutting open now.” Six more tanks, it seemed likely she could actually succeed. The next call came, “Six, two minutes twenty-nine.” The sound of metal crashing down came over as well. “That’s the panel open.”
Ty was counting the seconds between each call. He noticed he was sweating, rivulets of stress rolling down his face and stinging his eyes. “Five, two thirty-three.” He realized he had been holding his breath. At the same time, he realized he wasn’t the only one. Everyone in the room was completely fixed on her updates. “Four, two fifty-four. I have access to the hard line.”
Gānē moved next to him. He wasn’t sure how long it would take to make the connection, but he hoped it was faster than getting into the damn thing.
“Three, three seventeen.” She only had two tanks left. He knew she said hers had over five minutes. Once she got to that tank, it would be time to pull her out, comms or no.
“Two, four forty-one.” The smell of the room was growing sharp and acidic. It was likely that the air handlers for the area were reaching capacity.
“One, five nineteen. Nearly there.” Ty counted out seventy-nine seconds. “You’re at four minutes, Montrose. Come back now.”
“Thirty seconds to comms, sarge. I got this.”
“Negative, come back now.” Panic was clawing at reason. If she died now, Ty would never forgive himself. “Sil, you need to come back now, we’ll figure something else out.”
Silence. “Sil, respond now.” Still no response.
Gānē was watching the time on her comms. “Three minutes left.”
“Montrose, get your ass back to the airlock now! That’s an order.” Ty felt helpless. He knew exactly what he would be doing if he was the one on the other end; ignoring orders and trying to save everybody.
“Ty, one minute.” Gānē looked as though she had aged a decade in the past twenty minutes. “And the air-handlers are starting to show yellow in here.”
“I know what’s she’s doing, sir. I’d do the same, but it doesn’t make me feel less helpless.” Ty pounded on the airlock door. “Sil, get your ass back here now!”
“Last tank’s gone, Ty.” Gānē sat down heavily next to the airlock. “She’s on the filter only. It’s not really designed for that.”
A loud pop came over the comms. “Sarge, you got comms.” Sil was breathing heavily. “Heading back now.” She coughed before her comms shut off.
“Do we have a medic?” Ty called. A few people looked around before shaking their heads. “Of course not.” He stepped to the airlock and grabbed the closest troop. “Be ready to cycle this airlock the minute she steps into it.”
Sil’s voice was slower, slurred. “I think I’m close to the airlock, but I’m lost. I think it’s…” she coughed, her breath over the comms rapid and shallow.
“Sil, can you see the airlock?” Ty was getting desperate. “Can you see the airlock, Sil?”
“No, but I can see a thingie. Not sure what…” her comms shut off.
“Cycle this airlock now. And be ready to cycle back in less than sixty seconds.” Ty grabbed the command comm interface from Gānē and began hyper-ventilating, taking enough oxygen to make himself dizzy. As soon as the inner door opened, he stepped in and hit the switch, counting the seconds as he went. Fifteen seconds to drop to matching pressure, his ears popping like mad. He knew better than to try to hold his breath as the pressure dropped, but as soon as it equalized before the outer door opened, he took in a lungful and held it. He looked at the display to find Sil’s comm. It was ahead in an office. She had gotten turned around. He entered the office and found her kneeling on the floor, struggling to take a breath. He grabbed her and yanked her to her feet, but she hung limp. He was getting dizzy himself. His vision was starting to blur on the edges. He focused on the airlock door in front of him. He dragged Sil into the airlock and fell over. The pressure increased until his ears felt like they might burst. He was gasping, taking in huge lungsful of air. Sil wasn’t moving.
The inner door opened, and a troop jumped in and started CPR on Sil. Ty felt as though his head would explode, but brushed aside any offers of assistance. “C’mon, Sil, you got us this far. Don’t go now.”
She coughed once, vomited, coughed some more. The troop doing CPR motioned another to help carry her out. Ty felt a hand under his armpit, lifting him. He looked up to see Gānē.
“That was stupid, Carel. That was just stupid enough to be the kind of thing that ends up getting you a medal or some shit.” She helped him to his feet. “Don’t you ever pull another stunt like that under my command.”
Ty shook his head. “No, sir. Although once we reach fleet, I don’t suppose that’ll matter much anyway. I’ll just go back to the armory and leave all the glory for you.”
Sub-captain Gānē stared into his eyes. “I want to make sure this is absolutely clear. We got in touch with the Simms. Hotel is bringing breathers, tanks and filters, and coming in through the freight elevator airlock into the armory. When we get back to the Simms, you and I are going to have a sit-down with the colonel and talk about what we found. We will not discuss it with anyone else. The same goes for MacInnes and McGinn.”
Ty rubbed his temples. His headache was starting to dissipate, but his head still pounded. “What does that have to do with…” he started.
Gānē cut him off. “After our little sit-down with the colonel, I am recommending you for Platoon Sergeant in my platoon in Fox.” Before he could protest, she continued, “It’s three grades, counting the field bump to Junior Sergeant, but I have a feeling I could make it happen. If you want it that is.”
Ty considered. “I don’t even see how that would work.”
“Fox is down to less than two squads. Delta as well. Yeah, we’ll re-up with new troops, and some of them will be sergeants. The difference is, everyone in this room, right now, is looking up to you.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve already shown you know how to lead. I just want you to lead in my unit.”
Ty considered. “If you can make it happen, then yeah. I would consider it a privilege to work for you.” He glanced around the room at everyone pretending not to be paying attention to their hushed conversation. “But, hey, even if it doesn’t work, does Fox need a new armorer or two?”
“I’ll make it work. You said you’d get me comms, and you did. I’ll do this for you.” She raised her voice, “And as far as I’m concerned, everyone in this damn room is up for promotion when we get back. I’ll piss off the entire FDF personnel department if I have to.” She looked around the room. “The breathers will be here in a couple minutes and we’ll be leaving by the freight elevator. Make it happen.”
“Yes, sir.” Ty strode to the center of the room, hiding the pain from his pounding head. “Hotel will be coming down in the armory freight elevator. It has its own airlock, but it’s likely using the same stale air we are. Form up, two lines, one on either side of the door. As soon as those breathers come in, you get them on and get on that elevator. If you see anyone struggling, you get your own breather on and then help them. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sergeant!” the call came in unison.
He turned to the soldiers tending to Sil. She was breathing, but was still not fully conscious. “Get her right up by the doors. When her breather goes on, you set it for max oxygen.” He moved to the end of one of the lines with Gānē. “On return to the Simms, I want everyone to check in to med and get cleared. Then we’ll see what we can do to help out until extraction.”
Ty stood close to Gānē and spoke in a soft whisper, “Pas, when we talk to the colonel, there’s something about the timeline that's…”
“I know, Ty,” she whispered back. “The call to fleet came before the attack. We’ll talk about it with the colonel.” She nodded toward the freight door where the warning light turned on. “Now it’s time to get us out of here.”
The evacuation was fast. Five soldiers from Hotel came out of the elevator, saw the lines when the doors opened, and treated it like a redeploy. Breathers were on and checked and everyone was in the elevator in under two minutes. A ground vehicle waited for them on the surface.
A tall, muscular woman jumped into the back of the truck with reflexes used to maneuvering in low gravity. She had broad features, dark brown skin with jewel undertones, and eyes so dark they looked black. Ty recognized her. Senior Sergeant Margaret Bello, training sergeant from Hotel company. “Is this all? Who’s command, and who’s top?”
Gānē raised her hand. “Sub-captain Gānē, I’m command. Carel’s Top,” she said, pointing at Ty.
Bello’s eyes betrayed no emotion, but her shoulders shifted. She sat next to them and spoke just above a whisper. “Shit, I knew it was bad, but I wasn’t expecting this. Alright, sub-captain, uh… corporal, you are to report to the c as soon as we get back on the Simms.”
“He’s a Junior Sergeant now, at least.” Gānē said.
Bello looked at Carel. “I won’t say congratulations, sergeant. Celebration hardly seems appropriate now.”
Ty didn’t want to talk about it. “Sergeant, who’s handling extraction prep? Hotel?”
Bello shook her head. “Nah, Bravo’s handling prep, Hotel and Golf are patching up for lift-off. We may be out of here under our own power.”
They pulled into the deploy bay and Bello jumped down. “Commander, Top, if you’ll follow me.”
Ty jumped down from the truck and made sure everyone got out. “Delta and Fox, straight to med to get cleared, and then report to Hotel company to assist repairs where needed.”
In unison, they barked, “Yes, sergeant!”
The colonel’s ready room was sparse. A large grey desk with two visitor chairs sat in the center. On one wall, a brown sofa and mini bar stood next to a Federation flag. Light came from panels in the light grey walls. The colonel was not in yet, so Gānē and Ty stood in the center of the room and waited. Neither one spoke; both too exhausted for small talk.
It was more than half an hour later that Colonel Ali entered. Gānē and Ty saluted. “Reporting as ordered, sir,” Gānē said.
Colonel Ali returned the salute. Ty recognized her face from the weekly comm briefings ,but had never seen her in person. He was struck by how short she was, less than one hundred fifty centimeters. Her face was round with large, dark brown eyes set against light beige skin with gold undertones. With a craze of wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, and a mop of unruly black curls, she looked more like a kindly grandmother than the hard-nosed commander he knew she was. Her artificial left hand and crisp uniform were incongruous with the rest of her.
“At ease. Have a seat,” she said as she motioned toward the sofa. “Drink?”
Rather than waiting for an answer, Ali pulled out three glasses and made three whiskey rocks. “I understand you have forensics relating to the situation at the dome,” she said, handing out the drinks.
Ty leaned forward. “Yes, sir. We have…”
Ali raised her hand. “You are not to tell me anything. Orders from fleet are to turn over the evidence to criminal investigations and leave it to them. The evidence, please.” She held out a hand and they placed the two command modules and the data gem in her waiting palm. She touched the wall above the wet bar and a small drawer slid out, into which she placed the evidence before closing it back up.
She sat down heavily and took a long drink. “If anyone breathes a word of what happened outside of the CI investigation, they will be charged immediately. Lifetime in the Oort level charges.” She stared into her nearly empty glass. “It stinks of coverup, but there it is.” Her head snapped up and she faced Gānē. “I never said that, and you never heard it.”
Gānē took a sip and shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.” She took another sip. “There is something else…”
“Sirs,” Ty chimed in. “Sorry to interrupt, but the rest of Delta and Fox need to be informed to stay quiet. Mac knows almost as much…”
“I just came from briefing the rest of your company. We’re not going to hang anyone out to dry.” Ali rose and fixed herself another drink. “Not any more than has already been done anyway.” She turned to the pair. “Now, captain, you were saying?”
“I will be making some promotion and award recommendations. If we can’t talk about anything, it’s going to make it difficult to make my case.” Her forehead furrowed. “I hate the idea that everything these troops went through will be buried forever.”
Ali sat back down next to Gānē. “The actions of the troops are not under investigation, nor are the conditions of the dome. Just anything directly relating to the evidence.” She set down her drink on the sofa arm. “I heard repeatedly from your company that the two of you are responsible for bringing them back alive.”
Ty shook his head. “No, sir, it was a team effort all the way.”
Gānē chuckled. “Just what I expected you to say. Sir, it was far more Ty… Sergeant Carel, than me. It’s why I want him to be a Platoon Sergeant in whatever platoon I get after we’re back to strength.”
The colonel shook her head. “That’s not going to work. You aren’t getting a platoon after this.”
Gānē looked at Ty with wounded eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Ali picked up her drink. “I don’t think you understand. Sub-captains command platoons. Captains command companies. I want you to head up Foxtrot as the new commander.”
Gānē’s head shot up. “Sir, I accept, on the condition that Carel be promoted to Platoon Sergeant and assigned to Foxtrot.”
“I’m afraid that I can’t accept that.” Ali poured another round. “You two work too well together. So, I took the liberty of promoting Carel retroactive to yesterday. Your field promotion brings him to sergeant, my field promotion brings him to Senior Sergeant.” She turned to Ty. “Senior Sergeant Carel, you are being slotted as Company Sergeant for Foxtrot company. It’s unusual, but not unheard of for an E-7 to act as a Company Sergeant.”
Ty started to say something, stopped himself, started again. “Thank you, sir. I….”
Gānē saw the confusion in Ty’s eyes. “Thank you, sir. I believe the Senior Sergeant is trying to say he won’t let us down.” Turning to Ty, she said, “Isn’t that right, Top?”
Ali nodded. “You finished NCO training last month. You’ll have to complete the advanced course in the next ninety days.” She pointed at Ty with her artificial hand. “You think you can do that?”
“Sir, can do and will,” Ty answered.
Gānē smiled. “Thank you, sir.” She wasn’t sure it was the right time to ask, but she did anyway. “Sir, when can we expect reinforcements?”
Ali rose. “Fox will be get
ting a new batch of troops in the next thirty days, plus the remnants of Delta, which will bring you to about seventy percent strength. Delta will be a ghost company for at least six months until we can bring in a complete company en masse.” She grabbed a detox inhaler from the wet bar and took a puff, knocking out the pleasant buzz she had just obtained. “I’m sorry to kick you out now, but I have work to do before we attempt to fly off this rock. Medics are waiting in the corridor. Get checked out and get cleaned up. You’ll have proper rank insignia waiting in your quarters. Sorry there won’t be a formal ceremony, but we don’t really have time for that right now. You’ll find the rest of your company awaiting inspection in the Fox common room, except for,” she looked at her desk, "Montrose. She's in the med bay for observation. Should be out by morning."
“Yes, sir.” They saluted and exited.
Their medical checkup was quick, but thorough. Both were given analgesics for the pain they had managed to ignore up to now and marked as fit for duty.
They had walked to Foxtrot before Ty even realized where they were going. “Sir, my quarters are still over in Delta. I’ll head over, clean up, and meet you back here in twenty.”
“Sounds good, Ty.” She grabbed his shoulder. “Thanks, again, for saving my life.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Pas. Hey, check the holo. Volume up three.”
A news flash was showing on the holo. “…again, it appears at this time that there are no survivors to be found in dome 412, in what is being called the largest terrorist attack in Federation history. The defense force troops that responded to the police call for assistance suffered heavy losses in a brutal and bloody fight, but we have been informed by an FDF spokesperson that there were no surviving separatist terrorists. The number of terrorists involved in the attack has not yet been released by…”
“Volume off.” Ty folded his arms. “So, that’s how they do it? Tell a lie without actually lying by just not correcting the reporter’s assumptions?”
Space Bound: A Dragon Soul Press Anthology Page 29