Maxwell Saga 5: Stoke the Flames Higher

by Peter Grant

  Neilson pressed his microphone switch. “Sir, we used a lot of our ready ammunition reserve this morning. I’d like to resupply from orbit before our next fight, because we may have to fight two engagements tomorrow, first against local Kotai, then against those coming down to join them. Both may be just as big as today’s contacts, if not bigger.”

  “I’ll contact Commodore Singh. Get your shuttles ready, and as soon as he gives us the go-ahead, you can send them up. I’ll have the Darwin battalion do the same. By the way, say ‘Well done’ from me to your heavy mortar battery. They did an outstanding job this morning, providing support fire to the evacuation. I hadn’t expected heavy mortars to be that effective at such long ranges.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll do that.”

  “Any word on your Executive Officer yet?”

  “He’s still in surgery, sir. They tell me it’s touch and go. They won’t know for a day or two whether he’ll survive.”

  “Please God he will! That was the gutsiest thing I’ve ever heard of. I’ll add my endorsement to any recommendation for an award you may submit.”

  “I’d appreciate that very much, thank you, sir.”

  —————

  ATHI SYSTEM – DEVAKAI PATROL CRAFT BHISHMA – 15:00

  Lieutenant Palli watched the icons in his diminutive Plot display, frowning. Why had one of the four destroyers just recovered its two drones and headed back to the planet? What was the enemy up to? It made no sense to weaken their advanced patrol line… unless they had something else in mind, something that would be even more of a problem for the Kotai to overcome. What could it be?

  He decided there was no harm in using this as a training opportunity for his sole junior officer, even though it might be the last training he would ever receive. “What do you think they’re doing, and why, Ensign Ramanathan?”

  “Sir, I… I’m not sure. I can understand having an advanced patrol line, but they’ve pulled it right back to half a light-hour from the planet. Why that far in particular? Why not a full light-hour away? What does half a light-hour gain them that a full light-hour doesn’t? Then there are the patrol craft, sir. They’re in a tight orbit surrounding the planet, only a couple of light-minutes from it. Again, why? What’s the point of being so close? They can guard the orbitals from there, of course, but they won’t be able to act against ships further away from the planet. They’re wasting ships with deep space capability on inner space protection. It appears to be what one of my textbooks called a ‘misapplication of force’, sir.”

  “You show the beginnings of understanding, Ensign. Consider. If the destroyer line is half a light-hour from the planet, given light speed delay it’ll take only half an hour for activity there to be visible to, or reported to, OrbCon. They can react to it by moving ships around, sending reinforcements, or whatever else they decide to do. If the destroyers were half an hour further out, that would delay any response that much longer; and with four of their patrol craft already destroyed – a third of their total force of twelve warships – they no longer have as much flexibility. Speed of response is more important to them now than it was before.”

  “I… I think I see, sir. And the destroyer heading back to the planet?”

  “I don’t know,” the Lieutenant admitted. “It could be anything – a mechanical defect, or collecting something or someone from the planet, or reinforcing the patrol craft. We’ll have to watch what they do next, and try to work it out from that. As for the patrol craft, you’re quite right. They are being misapplied, but that’s because the enemy has no alternative. Remember our situation at Devakai? We had no orbital patrol craft – only eight of these heavy patrol craft, designed for system-wide use. Because we had no lighter ships, these had to fulfil both roles. Athi’s in an even worse position. They had no patrol craft at all. I suppose that may be one of the reasons the Incarnate God chose Athi as the first planet, other than Devakai, to receive the light of his truth. His emissaries had no problem smuggling themselves and their weapons down to the planet. The United Planets didn’t bring light patrol craft with them, so their heavy patrol vessels have to perform both functions here too.”

  “I see, sir. Er… will their present patrols affect our mission?”

  “If by ‘affect’ you mean ‘make it impossible’, no, not at all. They’ll certainly make it more difficult, but obstacles are there to be overcome. Besides, I think we’ll see changes when Shalya starts her part of the operation. If she’s successful, that’s bound to bring about a reorientation of their patrols. In the confusion, we’ll do our best to slip through. If we can’t find a way, we’ll circle around and try another avenue of approach. Besides, the enemy’s current dispositions have made our attack easier once we penetrate the inner screen. We won’t have far to go to reach our targets.”

  Lieutenant Palli stood and stretched to relieve his aching muscles, then reached for a bottle of water and a container of stim-tabs. They’d be living on stimulants until this was over. They dared not take time to sleep, in case an enemy crept up on them unawares.

  “Trust in the Incarnate God, Ensign,” he said with as paternal a smile as he could manage. “His inspiration has brought us this far, and we’ve already won a great victory over the ungodly. He will not fail us. Here. Have a stim-tab. We must stay awake and alert, so that we do not fail him.”

  —————

  VELLALORE ORBIT – LCHS EDITH CAVELL – 15:00

  Steve walked through the hospital ship’s airlock to be met by a formal side party: two side ‘boys’ (one of whom was female), a Petty Officer Second Class enthusiastically blowing a real, old-fashioned, non-electronic bosun’s call, and a Commander whose name tag identified his surname as Yilmaz. Steve knew he was the vessel’s Executive Officer.

  He saluted, first the Commonwealth flag on the bulkhead below the ship’s crest, then the Commander, who returned it. “Welcome aboard,” the senior officer said genially, holding out his hand as the bosun’s call wavered to an end. “You caused quite a stir with that warning of yours – for which, thank you very much indeed!”

  “I’m glad we got here in time, sir,” Steve said very sincerely as his host led him out of the docking bay lobby. They stepped onto the high-speed beltway running the length of the ship, walking along the moving surface to speed their progress.

  He couldn’t help noticing signs at regular intervals along the bulkheads reading, in large emphatic letters, ‘SHIPS USE ONLY!’, and asked about them. Yilmaz chuckled. “That’s because all hospital traffic is supposed to use a larger beltway, running beneath this one,” he explained. “We could never cope if the crew had to compete with medical staff and patients to use the same corridor, particularly if a stretcher or piece of equipment was being moved at high speed. The collisions would only add to the hospital’s workload!”

  Steve couldn’t help chuckling at the mental image. “How big is this ship, sir?”

  “Very. We’re larger than a troopship or battleship – nine hundred thousand gross register tons. Of course, we have to be. We can handle up to two thousand patients, and have Class 1 surgical facilities. Basically, think of one of the largest and most sophisticated hospitals on Lancaster, transferred into a spaceship hull. That’s us. I was going to say that we’re actually too large and too sophisticated for our assignment here, but today’s events may change that.”

  Steve nodded. “Before I enlisted, I spent time in the Merchant Service aboard a T-9 series merchant freighter, Sebastian Cabot. She was built to be converted into a hospital ship when necessary, as part of the STUFT program – Ships Taken Up From Trade. The Fleet chartered her for a while back in 2837, to ferry injured children between Radetski and Vesta. It was an interesting experience.”

  The Commander grinned. “That’s interesting from another perspective, too. She’s about to replace us on this station.” He laughed aloud at Steve’s startled expression. “She’s already been chartered and outfitted, and we’re expecting her within the week.
She’ll be far more cost-effective for a mission like this. They only sent us because Athi’s need was urgent, and they didn’t have anything available in the short term that was more appropriately sized. We’re not complaining, of course. It’s nice to be actually functioning as a hospital, rather than just tooling around the Lancaster system, training constantly and waiting for something more interesting to happen.”

  “Have any of the casualties from Athi needed your most advanced facilities?”

  “Not many, but we’re expecting one tonight. They’re shipping him up in a medevac pod. He’s the Executive Officer of the Marine battalion –”

  Steve slammed to a halt, clutching at the Commander’s arm. “Not Brooks Shelby?”

  “I think that was his name, yes. Do you know him?”

  “He’s closer to me than anyone except my wife!” Steve’s face was ashen with shock. “We’ve bought a compound together in the hills outside Lancaster, and live there with our families. What happened to him, sir? Can I visit him here?”

  “All I know is that he was severely injured in a firefight. I’m sure he won’t be in any shape to receive visitors for at least a day or two, perhaps longer. I won’t tell you not to worry, because of course you will; but if patients get here alive, we do our very best to make sure they stay that way.”

  “I… I suppose that’ll have to do for now, sir.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.” He indicated an upcoming sign pointing to the right. It read ‘Command Offices’. “We get off here.”

  Numbly, Steve followed him as they stepped off the beltway and walked down a short corridor. The double doors at the end were guarded by a Marine sentry, who snapped to attention as they approached. He opened one half of the doors and announced, “Executive Officer and guest, sir!”

  From inside Steve heard a deep, gruff voice. “Send them in.”

  Captain Butler proved to be a tall, dark-haired man with a commanding presence. Steve knew that to get a command like this, equivalent to a battleship or assault troopship, he’d have to be one of the more senior captains in the Navy. “Your signal said you needed to see the Commanding Officer,” he said without preamble as he shook hands. “What can I do for you?”

  Steve glanced at the Commander standing next to him. “Sir, may I ask whether both of you have Top Secret Code security clearances?”

  Butler’s eyebrows shot up. “Yes, we do – that goes with the territory in our jobs – but we compartmentalize it as far as possible. Exec, would you excuse us for a moment, please?”

  “Of course, sir. I’ll wait outside.”

  “Thank you.” Butler waited until Commander Yilmaz had closed the door behind him, then said, “Go ahead.”

  “Thank you, sir. This involves code word Juniper.”

  “I see… or rather, I don’t see. I’m not familiar with it. Take a seat while I look it up.”

  Steve sat down in a guest chair in front of the desk, while Butler went around behind it. He tapped a query into his terminal, and glanced at the readout on his display. His eyebrows rose again.

  “BuIntel, eh? So, Pickle isn’t just a simple communications frigate, I take it?”

  “Sir, as far as anyone else is concerned, Pickle should appear to be nothing more than a simple communications frigate,” Steve said, still trying to control his shock at the news about Brooks. “We do have certain… additional duties from time to time, about which I’m afraid I can’t say anything.”

  “They wouldn’t have anything to do with your uncovering so much highly sensitive information at Devakai, enabling you to bring us that warning, would they?” Butler waved his hand. “Don’t answer that. I’m intrigued, but I should know better than to ask. What do you need from me?”

  Steve opened his briefcase and took out a chip folder and two copies of a printed form. “Sir, this folder contains evidence that must reach Commodore Wu at BuIntel on Lancaster at all costs. I hope to get it to him aboard my ship, of course, but given the situation in this system at present, I need to take additional measures to safeguard it. You’re the senior Fleet officer on station, so I’d be very grateful if you’d please store this copy with your classified materials, and see to its secure delivery to BuIntel if anything happens to Pickle before I leave the Athi system.”

  “Yes, of course. I presume those are custody transfer forms?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve taken the liberty of filling them out already.”

  “Let’s sign them now, then.” Butler reached for a pen. “I’ll have Commander Yilmaz take this down to our Classified Records Office and enter it into the register. What should I do with it if you manage to get out of the system safely?”

  “Please signal Commodore Wu about it when you return to Lancaster, sir. He’ll arrange for its collection.”

  “All right.” He looked more closely at Steve. “You’re very pale, Commander. Are you all right?”

  “I’ve just heard very bad news from Commander Yilmaz, sir. It seems my closest friend, Marine Major Brooks Shelby, has been badly injured on Athi.”

  “That’s what the signal said. He’ll be sent up to us this evening, as soon as his condition has stabilized enough to permit his transfer. I don’t know all the medical details, but if he’s in an evacuation pod, it’s serious. Still, he’s survived long enough to be put into the pod. That’s a good sign. Those things won’t let you die, no matter how much you may want to! If he reaches us alive, I think our medical staff will make sure he stays that way.”

  “I’ll be here for a couple of days, I think, sir. How soon can I find out whether he’s fit to receive visitors?”

  “I’ll ask our Hospital Commanding Officer, Captain Haines, to send you a message aboard Pickle once she knows more about his condition. That probably won’t be until tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, sir. His wife and children live with mine at Lancaster – we share a compound there. I’m dreading having to tell her about his injuries.”

  “It’s one of the most difficult things in the world. Still, having been here, you’ll be able to tell her more than a Welfare Officer who’s just doing his job, going through the motions. I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.”

  “I hope so, sir – and I hope you’ll have good news about him before I leave. That’ll make it a lot easier on both of us.”

  December 6, 2851 GSC, 18:00 – 24:00

  ATHI – HEADQUARTERS, 24th MARINE EXPEDITIONARY BATTALION – 18:00

  Lieutenant-Colonel Neilson went down the line of stretchers, shaking the hands of those who could, gently touching those who were unable to speak. To each, he said much the same thing. “Thank you for all you did today. You’re going to be OK. You’ll be aboard the hospital ship in a few hours, with good food, soft beds and all the comforts of home.” To most, he added, “We’ll see you when you’re properly healed,” or, for those more seriously hurt, “Have a beer for us back on Lancaster.” The latter was usually greeted with a painful, but very enthusiastic grin.

  As he finished greeting each Marine, waiting medics carried their stretchers aboard two ambulance shuttles and secured them. Nurses and medics went aboard too, to keep an eye on their patients during the transit.

  A team wheeled a big metal cabinet out of the emergency section of the field hospital. It was wired and plumbed to a power unit, a tank of oxygen, a medication dosage console and other equipment. They pushed it over to a third ambulance shuttle and began moving it up the wide entrance ramp, as gently as possible. More medics followed them, carrying body bags strapped into litters. They secured them behind the cabinet in the clamps lining the shuttle’s bulkheads.

  As the evacuation pod passed him, Neilson came to attention and saluted stiffly. His eyes followed it as it disappeared into the shuttle. “Good luck, Major,” he whispered softly. “I hope you make it. If anyone deserves to live, you do, by God!” Even so, he knew that injuries so severe would not have been survivable at all without the aid of the robotic medical unit. There was no tel
ling what would happen when his Executive Officer’s body had to support life on its own. His heart and kidneys had already shut down under the strain. He’d have to rely on artificial substitutes until new organs could be cloned. If he was too far gone, he might not survive long enough for them to be ready.

  He held the salute as the body bags were carried past him. He could recall the faces of almost all of them. To be a Marine was to be a member of a family. Some were better members than others, some were white sheep while others were black, but they were all blood kin – and the dead had kept faith with their blood, in the end. Every Marine worthy of the name felt that way.

  As his arm came down, Dr. Sinclair came up beside him, her face tired and drawn. “Try not to worry about Major Shelby,” she said softly. “We’ve done all we can for him down here. He coded three times while we were working on him, but we brought him back each time. The pod will prevent that happening again for the next 48 hours. After that, it’ll be up to the medical team aboard Cavell. They’re the best we’ve got. If anyone can pull him through, they will.”

  “By ‘coded’ you mean ‘died’, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t, Colonel.” Her voice was a little stiff. “If he’d died, he’d have stayed dead. One of his vital organs merely ceased to function for a short time. We were able to jump-start it again until we could safely bypass it, using an artificial substitute.”

  “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put it like that. I’m glad the hospital ship sent you down. I don’t think Major Shelby would have made it without a top-notch surgical team like yours. He’s lucky you were here. We all are.”