When there were no more Chessori to shoot at, he went back to his normal search pattern, checking to the front and side of the building. Sporadic shooting sounded from the stairwell, but he felt that he was needed more as a lookout than trying to confuse the two experts down there. He kept moving from wall to wall, but there were no more Chessori targets.
He called the frigate. “You okay, Tom?”
“We’re fine, sir. How about you?”
“I think we’re in the clear at the moment. There’s some fighting inside the building, but I think it’s under control. Nice shooting on those tanks.”
“We took out some others coming at you from your rear again, too.”
“What else is going on out there?”
“Waverly’s guys are starting to move out from the port, but not toward you. They’re going after a large batch of Chessori holed up in a hotel. We don’t want to take out the hotel with a ship, we’d kill too many innocent people. I need to check on a couple things, but I’ll come back if you call.”
“How’s it going out in space?”
“I really don’t know, sir. My focus has been the planet, and I’ve had to tune out what’s happening out there. Lots of chatter is all I can say.”
Trexler heard pounding steps coming up the stairwell. He threw his communicator down and huddled next to the inside wall, his weapon at the ready. The pounding reached the landing, and he heard, “Coming out. Don’t shoot us, Ray.”
He yelled, “Clear!” and waited for them to emerge. Waverly looked absolutely fine when he came into view, but Walters was not. His right arm, torso, and the side of his head looked like hamburger. Blood dripped onto the floor as he moved. Waverly looked briefly out windows of each wall, then moved to Walters and started cutting his uniform away.
“Eyes outside, Ray,” he ordered as he bandaged up Walters. “Sorry, Sergeant. No pain pills until we get our kits from the ship.”
“It’s okay, sir. I know I’m a mess, but I’m not out of action.”
Waverly finished with Walters, checked briefly out both windows, then went back to his position on the floor, his communicator to his mouth. Walters’ upper body was wrapped in his shirt, and a pant leg had been cut off and used to wrap his head, looped under his chin and tied on the top of his head. He sat with his back to the wall for a few moments, then dragged himself back to his feet.
“Take a break, Walters,” Trexler ordered.
“No, sir. Sitting doesn’t make it feel any better, and they’ll be back. I think they really want this building.”
“Walters, you do this out of choice?” he demanded.
“Well, sir, with all respect, it beats the heck out of being locked up in a tin can. I’ve never understood how you guys can stand it.”
Trexler kept his reply to himself and went back to peeking outside.
“The colonel says we’re secure for the moment, sir, but at this point, they’re likely to bring in snipers, so be careful. We’ll bandage you up as soon as our guys get here with our kits. I have to tell you, I feel naked without my vest and kit. It’ll be nice to have our regular earpieces and microphones back, too.”
“Bandage me up?” Trexler began feeling all over himself and discovered blood on the front of his shirt.
“Looks like you got hit with flying glass, sir. Pretty good gash on your jaw. And your foot… well, you might have a crushed toe or two. Those shoes aren’t nearly as good as combat boots.”
Trexler looked at his feet. A jagged piece of building was sticking out from the front of his right shoe.
He looked at Walters in amazement. “I didn’t even know.”
“That’s the way of it, sir. You’ll know when they take it out, though. It’s probably best to leave it alone right now. Your jaw is still bleeding, but not terribly. Since we don’t have our kits, It’s probably best to let it continue for a while – it’ll keep germs out until we can clean it up properly. Is this your first time?”
“First and last.”
“You’ve done well, sir. It’s been a pleasure working with you.”
“You, too, Sergeant. Let’s hope the pleasure continues for many more years.”
Walters nodded, his lips pursed in a tight grimace.
Lieutenant Stevens came strolling down the hallway with a sleeve of his shirt tied around his left leg. “You guys okay?” he asked.
“We are,” Walters answered. ‘How about you?”
“Everyone’s okay. What happened to you?”
“A grenade. The corner of the wall took most of the blast. What happened to your leg?”
Stevens grinned. “A puncture wound, nothing serious. And look! I got a souvenir!” He pulled a jagged piece of metal that resembled a thick, warped and twisted spatula from his pocket.
Trexler took it and studied it, then handed it back with a shake of his head. “I don’t have a clue what it is. Do you?”
Stevens’ eyes shone. “I think it’s a piece of one of those Chessori ships that blew up. Pretty neat, huh?”
A grin lit Trexler’s face. “That is truly a souvenir, Lieutenant. I almost envy you. Do you realize you’re probably the only man on all of Earth to own a piece of a Chessori ship?”
“Jeez, I hadn’t looked at it like that, sir. Uh, I don’t have to turn it in or anything, do I?”
“Definitely not, and that’s a promise. If anyone demands it from you, tell them to come see me. I’ll set them straight.”
“You can do that, sir?”
Trexler smiled and looked at Waverly. For once, Waverly, too, was smiling, and the communicator was silent.
“I guess we haven’t spent much time on chain of command lectures, Ray.” He lifted his eyes to Stevens. “He’s your boss, Lieutenant, and mine. He’s in charge of all Earth’s space forces, and his battle hasn’t even begun yet.”
“I have two tanks out here,” Walters called. “You’d better get back to your post, Lieutenant. They’ll probably be coming at the back, too.”
Stevens left, and Walters dragged the big gun into position. Trexler saw some thirty Chessori troops working their way toward the building.
“The tanks have stopped,” Walters announced. “They’re in range, but just barely.”
His big gun started firing, one shot after another without pause. Waverly pocketed his communicator, moved to a window farther down the side, and started firing. Trexler heard heavy firing from the back of the building as he lifted his communicator to his lips.
“Tom, we’re under attack again.”
“Okay, I’m already headed back. Thirty seconds, sir.”
The corner of the building started taking a beating, and suddenly the corner itself blew in. The blast threw Trexler back into a wall. When he picked himself up, Walters was doing the same. He didn’t see Waverly, but he felt completely exposed with the walls and part of the floor missing. The ceiling sagged down from above, and Trexler wondered if it would fall in on them.
Chessori troops, many of them, were rushing the building. Trexler found his weapon and lay prone near the edge. Waverly’s words came back to him, “Aim every shot.” He took his time and did so. Bolts from Chessori blasters impacted all around him and Walters.
A fighter flashed by, and the ground around the advancing Chessori troops erupted. Trexler couldn’t see any targets through the smoke and dust. He heard heavy firing from the rear of the building and guessed that the fighter was making a pass back there, as well. A Chessori trader came in from the right, but before it opened up, the front of it exploded. It crashed to the ground about three hundred meters away. The frigate made a tight turn and settled into position above the building. Its great guns opened up on the few remaining Chessori troops, and Trexler knew this wave had been repulsed.
His communicator was nowhere to be found, so he had no way of reaching the frigate. Walters was on his knees, heaving rubble aside. Lieutenant Stevens arrived on the run and started helping. Trexler joined in, and all three of them lifted a heavy pi
ece of the wall and heaved it aside. Waverly’s body came into view.
Stevens knelt down beside him and felt for a pulse. “He’s alive, and he’s breathing.” He began a quick assessment, running his hands along Waverly’s torso, then his arms and legs. “Nothing obvious, but we’d better not move him.”
Suddenly, they were surrounded by Raiders, all wearing vests and kits. One immediately went to Waverly, set a large pack down, and leaned over him, beginning his own assessment.
Walters backed away and stood up to greet his friends. Another medic began unwrapping him. The medic studied the wounds, then took a magnifying glass from his pack and carefully examined Walter’s eyes. “Looks like one of those grenades found you. You’re done for this trip, Walters. Strip.”
“Hey, come on.”
“You know the drill. You probably have wounds you don’t even know about.”
Walters removed what was left of his trousers and stood in his skivvies while the medic checked him out. “Okay, close your eyes.” Walters stood while the medic sprayed him with copious amounts of something, then began winding gauze around his torso, then his arm. Trexler couldn’t believe how fast the man worked.
“You’d better check on the admiral, Fred.”
The medic glanced over his shoulder at Trexler sitting on the floor with his back to a wall. “He’s an admiral? You’d never know by looking at him.” Bandages went around Walters’ head, then the medic moved to Trexler while Walters pulled his pants back on.
The medic’s hands moved rapidly over Trexler’s body. “Got any hurts, sir?”
“No, none at all.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. I need to check you over, sir.”
Trexler smiled. “Don’t want to make the admiral strip, huh?”
“Sorry, sir. You can do it, or I’ll do it for you. Just lower your pants so I can check your legs. Don’t try to take them off. That shoe won’t come off easily.” Trexler stood up and dropped his pants, what was left of them. Dust filled the air as he lowered the pants. The medic sprayed his legs, then Trexler pulled his pants back up and removed his shirt. More spraying, then the shirt went back on.
“Sit, sir.” The cut on his chin was quickly cleaned, pulled together with band-aids, then dressed. Scissors came out, and the shoe and sock were cut away. “Any pain, sir?”
“A little. It’s mostly numb.”
“Numb is better than no feeling at all.” He pulled a syringe from his kit and pulled off the cap.
“What’s that, Sergeant?”
“Morphine, sir. I’ll follow it up with a general antibiotic. It’ll hold you until you get to sick bay.”
“No. I’ll take the antibiotic, but not the morphine. I have a lot of work ahead of me yet, and lots of lives are in the balance.”
The medic stared at him, then gently dislodged the fragment. “Still no pain, sir?”
“Uh, more now.”
The magnifying glass was back in the medic’s hand. He leaned close to examine the foot, then looked back up into Trexler’s eyes. “You’re going to feel it a lot more in a little while, sir. Three toes are crushed, and there are some loose bone fragments.”
“How about pulling out the fragments and wrapping it up?”
“If we were on Earth, I would, but these Empire docs might want all the parts to put it back together properly. This could never be properly repaired at home, but it might here. Let’s wrap it up and let them decide.”
He peered hard into Trexler’s eyes as his hands did their work. “Sir, make sick bay your first stop when you reach the fleet. You don’t want to be making life and death decisions without some kind of pain reducer. Trust me on this. I know what I’m talking about.”
“I’ll take your advice, Sergeant, and I appreciate your bluntness.”
“Rank has no bearing in medicine, sir. I treat everyone equally.” In almost no time at all, he wrapped a thick white bandage around the foot, then another olive drab bandage on top of that. “Keep the foot elevated, sir.”
He moved on to Lieutenant Stevens. Trexler tried to check on Waverly, but he couldn’t see anything through the press of bodies.
“Who’s in charge here?” he called out.
A captain came to his side and crouched down. “How you doing, soldier?”
“I need to get back to my squadron. I’m Admiral Trexler. Can you get me up to the frigate?”
“It’s gone. You’re an admiral? What the heck are you doing here?”
“It wasn’t by choice, I assure you. Can I borrow your radio?”
“No need, sir. We’re evacuating Colonel Waverly to a cruiser. You can go with him.”
“How is he?”
“Still unconscious. No major wounds, but a pretty good gash on the back of his head. Can you walk?”
Trexler accepted a hand and got to his feet. A stretcher with Waverly was already moving toward the stairs. The captain pulled one of Trexler’s arms over his shoulder and motioned ahead. Trexler tried to lift the man’s hand away. “I can walk, Captain. I’m really okay.”
“Yes, sir. I’m just thinking of the stairs. We don’t let admirals fall down the stairs in this command.”
The lobby was in shambles, and they had to carefully work their way around debris. A fighter was touching down when they emerged into the open. The sun was just setting, and it was deathly quiet. An explosion sounded from above, and Trexler looked up to see streamers shooting out from a fireball high in the sky. He didn’t know whose ship it was.
Walters and Stevens came up beside him, Stevens on a stretcher. He seemed perfectly fine to Trexler. “You going with us?” he asked, surprised.
“I guess so, sir. Seems ridiculous to me, but they tell us we’re out of the action, so we might as well go with you. We’ll end up there sooner or later anyway. I feel fine, but I guess the fragment got an artery. It was kind of a mess when they untied my leg. Walters has a lot of fragments to be removed.”
He looked at Walters. “I don’t think you’ll need that assault weapon where you’re going, Sergeant.”
“It’s not mine, sir. It’s yours. I thought you might want it.”
A grin instantly lit Trexler’s face, and he reached for the weapon. “Thanks, Walters.” Then the grin was replaced with a look of horror. “Seeton!” he yelled. He pulled away from the captain and headed back for the building.
“Hold it, sir. What’s the problem?”
“The Sector Commander! He’s in a room on the second level. If he’s still alive, he has to go with us.”
The captain spoke into his microphone, then headed Trexler back to the fighter. “Anyone else we should bring, sir?”
Trexler considered. “No. They’ll have a mess on their hands when this is over. We’d better leave someone here to pick up the pieces.”
His mind turned to space, but he felt confused for a moment. It was almost a wrenching feeling to put the ground battle behind him and shift gears to the coming battle in space. What was going on out there? To Waverly’s captain, he said “Tell whoever’s in charge here that I’m going to need gunners for my ships again.”
“How many? We’re pretty well established here. We can probably break some away right now.”
“No, your job is critical, and I don’t want to slow you down. I’ll get transportation arranged, but it will likely be a few days. I might need all of you. Someone will get back to you.”
He went to the bridge of the fighter and took the first vacant seat he came to, planning to study the situation among the fleet, but moments after sitting down, he was fast asleep. The fighter made the short hop to the port, took more stretchers aboard, and headed up into space.
Chapter Twenty-five
Seeton woke him up. It took him a moment to get his bearings. “We’re here, Ray,” he heard as if from far away.
“Where’s here?” he asked, still shaking himself awake. His foot hurt, a lot.
“Your flagship.”
“Okay.”
&nb
sp; Seeton helped him to his feet and to the ramp of the fighter. A small personal transport waited outside on the deck of hangar bay.
The fighter’s captain ran down the ramp, catching them before they left. “You forgot something, sir.” He handed Trexler his assault rifle, and the transport set off.
Seeton gave him a strange look. “I have a lot of catching up to do.”
“I think you can consider the planet yours again, sir. Our focus will be outward now.”
Seeton nodded. “I have the feeling I’ll be calling you sir before we’re done.”
“Look, we really didn’t have much chance to get to know each other.” Trexler stuck out his hand. “Ray Trexler.”
Seeton took the hand in both of his own and shook. “Harry Seeton. You’re pretty beat up, Ray, and what’s with all the dust? You’re coated in it.”
“It’s whatever your building was made of. You won’t be using your headquarters for a while, but your guys are okay, as far as I know. The Chessori never got in. The medic said this foot was going to be a distraction, and he’s right. I’m definitely going to have to do something about it. How are you?”
“The scree is much worse than I ever imagined. Thankfully, you’ll never know.”
Trexler nodded and frowned. “Too many others have been through it, and there will be many more in the upcoming weeks.”
“Weeks. You think it will take that long?”
“We won’t know until we see the big picture. I think we’re about to find out. I’d appreciate it if you’d stick with me during this. We’ll need all the help we can get.”
“Where else would I go?”
“You have a planet that needs your attention.”
“I have a sector that needs it a lot more.”
“And the future of an empire rests in the balance. In my mind, I’ve envisioned a battle here that will defy management. If it develops the way I’ve imagined, we’ll have over a thousand squadrons fighting each other. That’s something like thirteen or fourteen thousand ships.”
“I’ve managed a fleet for a number of years, but this is beyond my reckoning.”
“Let me tell you the first thing we learned when we started working on battles of this scale, Harry. We’ve all managed fleets, but in comparison to what could develop here, we were really only managing individual squadrons, squadrons in which we spent careers. When you think on the level of the squadron, you live and breathe the death and destruction, the tactics of ship against ship, the positioning of ships and their firepower, all of that. That’s all going to take place a thousand times over during the coming weeks, but it’s not our job. We’re not going to focus on individual fights and how frightening and horrible and exhilarating they can be. The squadron and battle group commanders will, but we won’t. Ours is a numbers problem, nothing more. We set the harshness aside. We deal only with capabilities, speed and firepower, positioning. To us, every squadron commander is as good as every other squadron commander, even when they’re not. They’re just numbers, not friends or competitors or strong or weak. They’re pieces of a 3-dimensional puzzle that we will move around to make perfect fits. And some of the fits won’t be perfect. Some will die. Others we’ll pull back. We cannot focus on the suffering and death, only the numbers. Our goal is to achieve a number of zero remaining for the enemy while retaining some positive number for ourselves.”
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