by Sam Schall
Ash nodded. That didn’t surprise her. “Have him get me a report as soon as he can.” She sighed as her comm beeped. “I’d best report to Admiral Tremayne.”
Connery stood and stepped back. Ash smiled slightly to realize the corporal wasn’t leaving. The young woman was going to be there for her if she needed her. When they returned to Fuercon, she planned on making sure Talbot knew how well his protégé had done. Then she would have a long talk with Connery about what her plans in the Corps happened to be.
“Ash, what’s the status over there?” Tremayne asked as her image appeared on the small holo screen on the table.
“Bad would be an understatement, ma’am.” She paused and cleared her throat. She had to get through this. “Ship’s company is officially down by half. Realistically, it is down by more. Most of the crew is wounded to some degree.” She entered a command on the virtual keyboard and watched as the latest damage reports began to scroll down one side of the holo screen where both she and Tremayne could see. “The attempt by the Inquisitor to ram the Campbell caused major damage. Admiral O’Malley was seriously injured at that time.”
She leaned back and ran a hand over her face. “Ship’s systems are held together with prayer and not much more. It is still bleeding atmosphere in more areas than I’m comfortable with. Most weapons are off-line. I doubt the Campbell has more than a dozen torpedoes left. Not that they can be launched right now. Defensive screens are down to single digit levels. To say the Campbell is a mess is putting it mildly.”
“The other ships?”
“As bad or worse, ma’am. There is no way any of them can stand up to another attack.”
For a moment, Tremayne said nothing. “Your recommendation?”
“Admiral, I don’t see we have any choice. The ships need to withdraw. Our taskforce needs to act as escort to make sure they don’t run into any further trouble. Then, once safely away from the system, the wounded need to be transferred to other ships for treatment. At that point, a decision can be made as to whether it is feasible to return the remaining ships home or if it would be best to strip their databanks and then scuttle their hulls.”
“Are the ships capable of leaving the system?”
Ash blew out a breath and shook her head, one corner of her mouth quirking up. “The engineers say they can, as long as they don’t have to push their systems. That’s the best I can tell you.”
“And O’Malley?”
“Critical.” To give herself a moment, Ash reached for her mug and sipped. “Right now, Lt. Commander Yaris is the acting senior officer for the entire taskforce. The NCOs have been hit even harder. The survivors are doing the best they can, but it won’t be enough if the enemy returns.”
“Ash.” Tremayne looked out from the holo screen, fear reflected in her eyes. “Who did we lose?”
That was it. She didn’t ask anything more. Ashlyn closed her eyes and inhaled. She held the breath for a long moment before exhaling. At least Tremayne would understand.
“MJ’s critical and the doctors won’t say if she’s going to make it. She lost her right leg below the knee. That arm was seriously damaged. She took shrapnel in her left eye. Hell, Miranda, the list of her injuries is too long to recite right now.”
“Regen?”
“They can’t do anything along that line here. The tanks were damaged in the last attack.”
Tremayne turned and said something to someone off-screen. When she turned back, gone was the concerned friend.
“Ashlyn, answer me. Who else did we lose?”
“Lucinda.” She barely got it out. Pain and anger filled her. They’d been too late. She had been too late. “Three hours, Miranda. We were three fucking hours too late.” She reached up and dashed away her tears before they could roll down her cheeks.
“Colonel, do I need to transfer to the Campbell?”
“No, ma’am!” She shook herself and sat a bit straighter. Then she motioned for Connery to leave the room. The moment the hatch shut behind the corporal, Ashlyn leaned forward, elbows on the table, her expression serious. “Go to privacy mode.”
“Ash?”
“Miranda, I swear to God if you try to leave the Phoenix for any reason other than abandoning ship, I will order the Marines to place you under guard.” She shook her head, her eyes flashing, before Tremayne could protest. “These ships are flying death traps, Miranda. If we had time, I’d recommend transferring everyone over to our ships. But I can’t help worrying that we’re on the clock and losing the race. If the Callusian commander managed to send for help, reinforcements could arrive at any time.”
“I’ll agree with your recommendations with two changes. The critically injured will be transferred to our ships now. That includes both O’Malley and Anderson. I’ve already dispatched shuttles with medical teams to see to it. The second is that you and Connery will return to the Phoenix on the first medical shuttle. I’m sending a command team, as well as engineers, to replace you. Before they get there, gather whatever data you feel I need to review immediately and bring it with you. Understood?”
She didn’t like it, but she understood. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Then get the injured ready to transfer. Shuttles will be there in half an hour. Tremayne out.”
Ash leaned back and blew out a breath. She should have known she couldn’t hide her feelings from the woman. But now she had a great deal to do and not much time in which to do it. Connery could deal with downloading the records she knew Tremayne needed to see. That left one duty to her, one very important duty. She wanted to make sure Lucinda’s personal belongings were secured and taken back to the Phoenix. Once home, she’d make sure they found their way to her best friend’s parents.
But first things first. She needed to let the medical team know to prepare the critically injured for transfer.
I swear I will make every person responsible for what happened pay, Luce. I promise.
Connery stood silently, her expression carefully neutral. Across the room, a medical team prepared Master Sergeant Adamson for transfer to the Phoenix Rising. The blonde looked so small and fragile as she lay on the narrow bed. Pain etched deep lines in her face. Heavy bandages covered her forehead and left eye. Her left hand fisted at her side, bunching the sheet. Her mouth pulled tight. But not once, not one single time did she complain or so much as moan in pain.
“We’ll be back when the shuttle’s here, Master Sergeant. Rest until then,” one of the medics said. Then he turned his attention to Connery. “Corporal, she needs to rest.”
“Understood. I’m just here to make sure she is on the shuttle.” She waited as the team left the room. Then she moved to stand next to the bed. “They’re gone.” She laid her hand over Anderson’s.
“Status?” the blonde rasped. She looked up at Connery, her one blue eye feverish.
“Admiral Tremayne agreed with Colonel Santos that we need to withdraw from the system. As soon as you and the other critically injured have been transferred to either the Phoenix or one of the other ships that came with her, we’ll get underway.”
“Lucinda?”
Connery’s mouth firmed. “I’m sorry, Master Sergeant. The Sobek’s power plants started going critical while she and a squad were still onboard. Sorceress was trapped in one of the blasts. The others managed to get her and the two Warlords with her free from the rubble. They did everything they could, but she didn’t make it.”
Adamson didn’t say anything. She closed her eye and turned her head away. Seeing the tears escaping from beneath her eyelid, Connery gently wiped them away. Then she waited, giving the blonde as much time as she needed. As she did, she remembered her promise to Ashlyn to do all she could to help the master sergeant. The colonel had known how hard the news of their friend’s death would be on her.
“Her body?”
“Is being transported to the Phoenix to be taken home. Colonel Shaw isn’t leaving her, or any of the rest of our people, behind.”
Painfully, A
damson shifted positions. As she did, she held onto Connery’s hand as if her life depended on it. “Is she all right?” She cursed as she moved wrong, jarring her injured leg. “Damn it, is Angel all right?”
“She’s hanging on, Reaper.” Connery bent and helped her get settled again. Then she glanced over her shoulder, giving the medic waiting just outside the room a signal to be ready. “And she will be returning to the Phoenix on the same shuttle you’ll be on.”
“You take care of her, Brigid. Swear to me, you’ll take care of her.”
“I will.” She stepped back as the medic moved to the bed. He checked Adamson’s vitals and then administered a painkiller. “Looks like your transport team is here, Sarge. Lie back and let us get you out of here.”
“I’ll be all right. Go find Angel. Stay with her. That’s an order.” The last three words slurred as her eyes closed. Before the transport team moved into place, Adamson was asleep. Connery blew out a breath. Then she turned her attention to the medic. “Take her on. Colonel Shaw and I will meet you at the shuttle.”
With that, she left the Medical Ward. She had a pretty good idea where to find the colonel and she did not plan on breaking her word to Adamson. The two of them would be on the shuttle, even if she had to knock the colonel over her head and drag her onboard.
Miranda Tremayne waited, her concern building, for Ashlyn to join her. The shuttles carrying the injured had reached the Phoenix and other ships in Taskforce Sentinel almost an hour earlier. She’d sent word for Ashlyn to join her in her day room as soon as she could. Now, realizing how much time had passed, she wondered if she needed to comm Connery and see what was keeping the colonel.
A knock sounded a moment before the hatch slid open. A Marine private stepped inside and braced to attention. At Tremayne’s nod, he relaxed slightly. “Colonel Shaw to see you, Admiral.”
“Show her in, Private.”
Standing before the viewport, she waited. From the moment she learned of Ortega’s death, she’d worried about Ashlyn. The younger woman had been more than best friends with Ortega. They had been as close as sisters. Ortega had been one of the driving forces behind the move to not only find out what really happened on the Arterus mission but who had been responsible for setting up Ashlyn and her squad.
When the hatch slid open again, Tremayne turned. She watched as Ashlyn stepped inside. Before the private could say anything, Tremayne dismissed him. Then, as the hatch closed behind him, she hurried across the room to where Ashlyn stood. Her heart broke as she looked at her goddaughter. Anger and pain shadowed her expression. She moved as if exhausted. Without a word, Tremayne led her to one of the chairs in front of the viewport. As Ashlyn settled, the admiral hurried to pour her a drink.
“We should be out of the system in the next six hours,” she said as she handed the younger woman a whiskey.
Ash thanked her and took a careful sip. “Good. There is no way Liberator’s ships can survive another battle. Honestly, if you don’t put O’Malley and his people up for recognition for what they did, I will. The fact they survived long enough for us to get here is a miracle.”
Tremayne nodded. She had reviewed Ashlyn’s initial reports concerning Taskforce Liberator and its status. To have withstood three enemy attacks and not have lost more people than they had spoke volumes about not only O’Malley but Ortega as well. The bodies of every Marine lost, with the exception of those stationed aboard the Carrington that had been lost when a lucky shot from the Callusians hit its power plant, had been recovered. It was almost the same story with the Naval personnel. At least their families would be able to lay them to rest.
“Ash, it’s just us and there’s no rank tonight.” Tremayne sat next to her and turned so she could look at her. “Are you all right?”
For a moment, Ashlyn said nothing. Then she took another sip of her whiskey. When she looked at the redhead, her eyes burned with an anger the woman understood.
“No,” she said simply, honestly. “I’m far from all right.” She shoved to her feet. After draining her glass, she crossed to the bar and poured herself another whiskey. “Three hours, Miranda. We were three hours too late. She didn’t have to die. She wouldn’t have died if that son of a bitch Hale had sent reinforcements when she asked for them.” She tossed back the second whiskey and poured a third.
Understanding, Tremayne waited. If Ashlyn needed to get drunk that evening, she’d let her. But she needed her to focus for a bit longer first.
“What happened? I assume you found out.”
Ashlyn nodded. Then she reached into a pocket and, a moment later, produced a datachip. “If I may?” She waited until Tremayne nodded in response. Then she plugged the chip into her datapad before handing it over to the admiral. “If you don’t mind, I’ve seen it already and don’t want to watch it again.”
Tremayne glanced at her, worried. Then, seeing the pain in Ashlyn’s eyes, she stood and moved to her side. She lifted her hand and gently cupped the younger woman’s cheek. With her thumb, she wiped away the single tear that escaped Ashlyn’s right eye. “Wait in my bedroom. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”
“Thanks.” She reached up and rested her hand on Tremayne’s and then left the room. Tremayne didn’t object when, as Ash passed the bar, she reached for the bottle of whiskey. She had a feeling this was the first time Ash had really let herself feel since learning of her friend’s death.
Sipping her own whiskey, Tremayne watched as the first images appeared on the datapad. Her mouth drew tight at the scene. It was one she had seen too many times before. Ortega and her Marines landed in the badly damaged bay onboard the Sobek. Ortega issued orders, not only taking into account the ship’s status but the fact fighting still went on around them. Then, with two Marines in heavy armor escorting her, she’d made her way to the nearest terminal. Despite the danger she knew existed, Ortega had done her duty. She’d been a Marine to the end.
Ortega had done nothing wrong. If she had opted to withdraw after learning the power plants were going critical, Ortega very well might still be alive. Instead, she had done what she should have. She tried to secure the ship’s databanks. The download had just finished when a second explosion rocked the ship. Ortega and her escorts had been caught as the rear of the bay collapsed. Risking their own lives, the other Marines worked quickly to free them, doing everything they could to save their fellow Warlords. The fact they managed to retrieve the three and get off the ship before it blew was a miracle.
Tremayne ended the recording and set the datapad to one side. If she had anything to say about it, Hale would have to watch the recording every day for the rest of his miserable life. Ashlyn was right about one thing. Had the taskforce received the requested reinforcements it was not only possible but probable Ortega would still be alive. With more ships to force the Callusians surrender, Ortega wouldn’t have felt compelled to board a badly damaged ship.
Damn Hale and everyone else who ignored those requests.
But that had to wait. She wanted to make sure Ashlyn was all right. Then it would be time to begin preparing their reports back to not only FleetCom but Okafor. By the time they returned home, Tremayne wanted everything in place to not only lay their dead to rest but to make sure this sort of disaster never happened again.
10
Glenn Spaceport
New Kilrain, Fuercon
“Escort parties are ready, Ma’am.”
Corporal Connery spoke softly, yet her words seemed to echo throughout the stripped-down battle shuttle. Gone were the armor racks and jump seats. Gone were the weapons lockers and supply bins. Instead, more than a dozen flag draped coffins rested in the “passenger area”, each guarded by six Marines in mess dress uniforms. Many of them bore the scars of recent battle. Expressions grim, they waited for the order, an order Ashlyn prayed she never had to give again.
It didn’t help that she knew this was only one of a number of such shuttles that would be making landfall that morning. Some would be carry
ing wounded to the Medical Center. Too many others would, like this one, carry their dead, Naval and Marine. The mission had been costly, but it could have been worse. Ash reminded herself of that even as her hand rested on the coffin next to her. The personal cost of this mission had been much too high, and she swore to make those responsible pay.
The shuttle gave a slight lurch as it settled on the tarmac. At the same time, each escort team moved into position. Ashlyn, from her place near the hatch, turned. Her eyes burned, her tears unshed. She had no doubt her expression was as grim as those of her Marines. This duty was both an honor and a burden and she needed to make sure each of them were all right in the coming days. It was too easy to feel the failure of the mission even though the failure had not been theirs.
As the shuttle hatch slid open, Ashlyn drew a deep breath and took her place next to the first casket. A touch of her fingertips and the casket was freed from the locks holding it in place. At the same time, she gave the order for the first escort team to assume their positions. It was time to bring their fallen comrades home.
“On my command,” she said softly, “lift and shoulder the caskets. We will do this right and we will honor our fallen brothers and sisters.”
A soft “ooh-rah” was the only response.
“Atten-hut!” Her voice rang in the confines of the shuttle. She took two steps forward and executed a perfect about face. For a moment, she studied the Marines, her eyes missing not the smallest detail of their appearance. Satisfied, she returned to her place near the head of the first casket and ordered her team to lift and shoulder it. “Forward march.”
Tears once again blurred her vision when a lone drummer began his slow cadence. As one, her team moved down the ramp and across the tarmac toward a waiting hearse. Standing near the dark vehicle, one of many there to accept the fallen, were Lucinda Ortega’s parents, her brother and sister and their families. Also present were General Okafor and Brigadier General Elizabeth Santos, as well as members of the Devil Dogs who had not been part of this latest mission, all in Mess Dress uniforms. But it was the sight of President Harper and Secretary Klingsbury standing with Lucinda’s parents that resonated with Ashlyn. Their presence didn’t surprise her. Since her pardon, she had learned one thing about the two, and especially about Harper. He not only respected the military, but he felt every one of its losses as if it were his own.