............................................................................................
Now that Zeta is on-site, it is our job to support Epsilon in any way we can. So, I attach my Theatres to their Tier One Commanders until the confrontation reaches its now inevitable conclusion. But, this time, I have the Examiner parked much closer to the battlefield, quite near the Valhalla. And, I intently eye both my large view screen and the port-side view window to ensure I know of alterations to enemy tactics, immediately.
By twenty-one hundred hours forty-five minutes our flotilla of over a thousand is now fighting just over a hundred enemy ships. But, seven suddenly break out and head for the Examiner at high speed. They are bearing down on us, projecting sheaves of missiles, torpedoes, and particle charges at Examiner and my security flotilla. Our starboard bow torpedo tubes, launchers and the shielding protecting them are damaged and knocked out of service making a response to incoming vessels harder unless we turn that side of the big craft towards the incoming enemy. But, they are closing the distance so quickly, we may not be able to complete the maneuver in time.
We detect a firing solution lock while our vulnerable area still faces the formation which is just one hundred kilometers off our hull. The pulsing alarm speeds up as the weapons' detection system is determining the Isesinis squad is reaching a point guaranteed destruction.
Then, just as the signal becomes constant, a massive hulk separates us from our opponents. It's the Valhalla and George has ordered it to protect us in our moment of need. But, it is rocked by one blow after another delivered at point blank range. I discern gasses, scrap, and bodies exhausted from near its upper front region as momentum carries it past us.
We are now in position, with our damaged sections protected and all weapons locked on targets to our starboard side. The Captain orders the Examiner to fire. Hundreds of rounds close the distance in a couple of seconds. All seven intruders are destroyed instantly.
"Get me Admiral Bryant on the Valhalla," I order.
"Sir, it's the Captain. Admiral Bryant is unavailable."
I see the face on my screen. I do not recognize it. He requests a private conversation. I almost run to my nearby office.
"Report!" I bark. The fear is apparent in my voice.
"Sir, that part of the Valhalla was hit and is severely damaged. Admiral Bryant is missing. But, we haven't been able to get in there, yet. However, based on sensor readings, we believe everyone on the Flag Bridge is probably dead." He nearly whispers the account.
I fall back in my chair.
"Oh. I hope not. I hope I haven't lost my best friend!" I know there are tears on my face and my voice is cracking.
"I'm sorry, sir. I wish I had better news."
"It's not your fault, Captain. Look after your ship. And, get into that bridge as quickly as possible." I ordered.
After closing the line, I invoked my C&C rank and gave Tom Stevens temporary command of Epsilon. His people would probably have followed that protocol, anyway. But, an order from a member of the Commission makes it a certainty.
I turn my attention back to the battle. The field is a kaleidoscope of spiraling garbage orbiting more massive pieces of junk. There's lots of flotsam and scrap and a slew of floating bodies, limbs, heads and torsos. We are still in the middle of a confrontation, so despite my concern for George, I have work to do. It takes us another two and a half hours to completely overcome our antagonists. My eyes are burning by then. It's much like the problem welders have from accidentally flashing themselves. Only the Kil and six Cruisers got away. All other warships and two of the GPHC units were destroyed. The third base ship will be towed to where we can intensely examine and analyze it. Some of the metals employed in the hull are unfamiliar to us and superior to what we use.
I discuss the situation with Tom Stevens. I offer our help in the mop up. He agrees. So, I assign the appropriate contingent. Then, I contact him again and ask if I can board the Valhalla to help with the search for Flag Bridge personnel. He agrees. I shuttle over.
My journey from the docking port is uneventful and unimpressive until the elevator doors open on the Fifteenth Level. Everything is disheveled. The corridor to the Flag Bridge is a mess. All sorts of things have been sucked from spaces around on their way to the bridge. When I reach the doors, rescue teams are just gaining access. It's taken three hours to secure the area with temporary bulkheads so it can be pressurized. Everyone else makes their way slowly inward from the entrance. But, I march headlong to George's Office. I put my hand against the panel. It's cool but not as cold as if the other side was exposed to space. I call for pressure readings. I'm told they're low but rising. I stop for a minute to think that one out. It should mean George's office is intact and pressure atmosphere was drawn out through the gaps around the access way. Now, the pressurized bridge is forcing air back in.
I push on the door which releases but resists. I put my shoulder to it. There's a lot of crap up against its bottom half preventing it from sliding open. I am struggling to create enough gap and finally get my body through. I hear a groan from behind the bar which has shifted halfway across the floor.
I race to my friend. He's alive - barely. He has frost burns and broken blood vessels in and around his eyes.
"What happ..." He passes out.
"Get a medical team in here! It's Admiral Bryant, and he's alive!"
There is no observance of protocol in these cases. People don't acknowledge the order. They just act. They are using portable communications units to call for aid. Within two minutes, a team of three medical people arrives. They huddle around taking vital signs and attempting to restore his consciousness, unsuccessfully. One man inserts an Intravenous line and injects medication into it.
"He's stable - for the moment. Get him to sickbay - STAT!" The man says while he's placing sensors on Bryant's chest. He keys on his datapad and the remote traces and readouts appear as they negotiate their way through all the disorder. The ship's Captain arrives firing orders left and right. The Exec takes over for him.
The Captain and I are on our way to the medical unit when Moe and Tom Stevens appear in the hallway and join in for the walk.
"How is he?" Stevens asks.
"Alive!" I answer as I choke back a thankful sob.
"That guy's still tougher than nails."
"He's frostbitten and oxygen deprived. And that's not to mention he may look like a hungover raccoon in a day or two. He's got broken blood vessels all over, but it's the worst in and around his eyes. I bet that's going to hurt. But, the Doc says he's stable for now."
"Anything broken?" Moe asks.
"You know, I don't know. I was so concerned he might be dead, I never thought of broken bones. It's quite possible. The bar's halfway across the room, and he was behind it. I don't know about cuts and abrasions either. There's broken glass all over the place." I finished just as we were exiting the elevator doors facing Sick Bay. We enter in silence and just stand in place. Everyone knows who we are and why we're there. The area is full and interrupting would only interfere with the ministrations.
There's a limited waiting room but its big enough for all of us. We sit and wait.
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"You're lucky to be alive," I observe quietly during my visit the next day.
"I don't feel very lucky. I have a partially crushed foot, a broken wrist...' He holds up his right arm. '...and the Doctor says there are over a hundred stitches in me in batches of two or three. My eyes feel like they're falling out and my face is killing me. And, to top it off, an artery ruptured in a lung, and it hurts like hell to take a breath. Aside from that, I feel great.' He started to chuckle. 'Ow, that hurts!" He finished and laughed again with a wince.
"It's okay George. Your Two-I-C is great. He'll keep the seat warm until you get back."
"What about losses?"
"I'll let Tom give you the exact Epsilon o
nes, but you lost around a dozen ships and forty thousand people including those from the Valhalla. You're the only survivor from the Flag Bridge. Thank goodness you were in your office. And, it's a bonus you had Tom off the ship.
Zeta lost fifteen ships and two hundred thirty-seven Raptors over the last two battles. Nearly fifty thousand dead. But, we're mostly intact, and the Isesinis have withdrawn from the Federation."
"So, now you can lay back and rest, eh?"
"You can. But, not me!"
"What do you mean?"
"I have work to do. Kil Kos got away. I'm going after him."
"You mean you're sending ISIE?"
"They're coming along with me. I'm hunting that bastard down myself. Chris Sparks is coming along, and we're taking fifty SF Marines."
"You shouldn't. You're C&C. We can't lose you."
"You won't. Sparks gave me an earful. If I want to go, I have to follow his rules. He says he'll arrest me for not following OFSA Regulation if I don't. But, I want to be in on it. And, it'll give EL a chance to run the unit for a month without me."
"What about Chan?"
"We found him dead. The Hospital Unit Pathologist says he slit his own throat. We found the other fourteen in a heap in the upper Hangar Bay of that Headquarters. Each had a knife driven through the temple."
"Gruesome bastards, eh?" George observes.
"You bet.
After we get Kos, you and I are going to Eta Pegasi. If you're not ready, Tom can take Epsilon."
"You going after their Emperor."
"You bet! He and Kos are the real criminals, here."
"Good Hunting - With Kos, I mean."
"We'll get him. You just get well old friend."
I turned and left the room. I took a few minutes to speak with Marie and Atina who'd been waiting for me to exit. I explained I had a mission to finish, but I'd be there whenever possible. And, in the meantime, they could call on Fred and Bryant.
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We all traveled together at thirty-five percent to make Rigil for December 24. Being home for the holidays and New Years was essential. Tracking and traffic control was startled when fourteen hundred ships exited simultaneously and began to taxi towards the planet. They had just two hours to find parking spots for all of us. SOCC and the covert Epsilon force joined us a short time later.
The two Commands were greeted as heroes. But, none of us felt like that. We'd lost too many during this war. And, the strain had been continuous for more than two years. And then there was the concern over the injured. Not the least of those was George who was still bed-ridden. Between the foot and the lung, his doctors didn't want him running around, yet.
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Tom Stevens sat at my side as I represented both of us at the Commission debriefing. Then, I dropped the plan to go after Kos. They all just about shit their pants. A C&C taking an active part in arresting a dangerous criminal, with six SF soldiers of his own - and on an unknown planet. They didn't like it. So, I called in Sparks who'd been waiting outside the door. He explained the rules and the care they'd take. Everyone relented, and the mission was approved unanimously.
Finally, I shocked them again with the proposed operation at Eta Pegasus. After explaining Epsilon and Zeta would conduct it together and we were up against a very depleted enemy with no means of support or resupply they again gave their consent.
So, the games afoot.
Chapter 26 When Pigs Fly
Saturday, Jan 20, 2272
"Evil is powerless if the good are unafraid." Ronald Reagan
Dammit, it's hot here. And, it's so humid perspiration can't even evaporate. The faint breeze is mostly blocked by the thick tropical forest. So there's no relief. And, I've been bitten by bugs that look like black flies. But, these suckers are about the size of a baby pig. I'm exaggerating in my thoughts, but the image makes me laugh aloud.
"Are you starting to lose it? What's so funny, boss?" General Sparks looks genuinely concerned.
I pointed at one of the insects.
"I was thinking about how big these buggers are and the expression "When pigs fly" came to mind," I said as I laughed all the harder. He caught the humor in the mental picture and broke out in a guffaw, too. Then, several of the fifty-man SF Platoon within earshot followed suit.
"Let's take a rest stop.' Sparks ordered. Then, he added, 'It's nice to laugh. There's not been anything funny in this place, until now."
"I agree wholeheartedly.' I chugged a few swallows from my canteen. 'What do things look like, now?" I asked.
Sparks pulled his datapad from the backpack he'd dropped.
"Orbital sensors continue to show their squad in the same place. There are still seven targets there. Two are moving around on guard duty. The rest are in the lake, there. Their shuttle's still on the other side of them.' He stopped in thought. 'It'd be nice to take a swim right now." He mumbled quietly.
"After we finish what we came for. We can dive in as soon as they're all secured. Any active sensors from their vessel?"
"Not so far. But, they may be weak or passive. We'll have to be careful on approach. Radio or Radar Sensors can be detected simply enough. But, we'll have to scan for infrared and laser. And, we need to think less technologically. Simple tripwires could be in place. We'll have to watch for mines, too.
"How much farther?" I asked.
"About two more clicks. We'll have to slow down and go stealth in about twenty minutes."
We sat around chatting for another short while, then picked up our gear and moved on.
Trudging through the forest wasn't all that hard. There were breaks in the trees and ground cover that permitted us to trek without hacking our way through. Though it allowed us to journey quietly, it did extend the length of our march. Periodically, Sparks would examine the screen on his pad as we walked silently through the woods.
Fifteen minutes later, he held up his right hand. We all stopped. He put a finger to his lips to indicate absolute caution and quiet for the remainder of the walk. Then he pumped the air twice to specify slow going and signaled we should all keep low.
We advanced slowly through the jungle from there. All fifty-two of us were crouched down to take advantage of the stumpy ferns and brush.
Sparks flashed a stop, suddenly. He held out a scanner as he eyed his screen examining the area for infra-red and laser signals. He removed two pairs of eyeglasses from a pocket, donning one pair, then the other, as he carefully peered through the maze ahead. He presented the "okay" sign, then thrust both palms in the air, again. He was telling us the way forward appeared clear but to move cautiously. Finally, the General indicated both his eyes with his pointer and middle finger and drew a line to the region ahead. I rose slightly to observe.
Two fully armored and armed guards ambled slowly about a semi-circular track surrounding the beachfront the seven men occupied. Five of the rigid uniforms lay about the area, and an equal number of near-naked men wandered about in the lake. Five pintsized ones in a group laughed, splashed, joked and soaked. A tall, blond, muscular hulk was off by himself just enjoying the refreshing break. I remembered what Res told me. The Isesinis don't swim and are afraid of water over their head.
"Kil Kos." I mouthed to Sparks as I pointed to the giant. He nodded.
He and I moved to the rear of the company and spoke quietly.
"Did you notice the pattern the guards use?" Sparks whispered. I raised both hands palms up.
"They cross paths once in every cycle. That's the time to take them. They're much easier to target together." He murmured. I nodded agreement.
Then, he gathered the others around us and directed Marines to specific tasks employing sign language. Four would target the guards each leveling a single shot to the body cavity of their suits. Four more would advance to secure them. Twelve would move to block those in the wat
er from reaching their weapons and armor. The rest would be held in reserve in case of a problem or hidden forces we had not detected. The group silently reformed to their appropriate positions. He held up a hand with all five fingers widespread, then folded them down, one at a time. When his hand formed a fist, four nearly silent "sputs" sounded as the two dressed men fell suddenly. Four of our party headed to them while twelve more stepped out and quickly secured the beach. Kos looked up - amazed.
"Kil Kos, I have a warrant for your arrest authorized by a criminal court of the Orion Federation. You are charged with war crimes. Specifically, you are accused of murdering or causing the execution of seventeen without due process of law. Generally, you are indicted in the deaths of over a million. Your guards will be charged as accessories after the fact." Sparks shouted.
A single particle round was followed by two conventional shots. I looked around. One of the armored guards had managed to fire a weapon. A Marine had promptly killed him. I scanned my compatriots. Blood was seeping from just below Sparks right shoulder. His breathing was labored.
Buoyed by the distraction, Kos made a sudden move. Two shots rang out as water splashed on either side of him. "Stay where you are! I don't care if we bring you in alive!" A Marine Captain called out.
The Kil froze.
"Medic!" I called out. One of the reserve group came forward as Sparks slid the knapsack from his shoulders. We helped Sparks to lay down on the sand. The attendant examined him.
"It didn't hit an artery. But, it did penetrate the upper lobe of his lung. The lung is collapsed. That's got to hurt like hell. How long until departure?" He directed the question at the Captain.
Righteous Reign Episode 4 Ragged Remnant Page 24