Waters, Lennox, Nash, and I moved down so that the boarding ships were straight in front of us. We were actually within the blast radius, but our shielding was adequate to protect us from the debris that would be thrown in our direction.
I glanced to the right and to the left. It was pitch-black out, and I couldn’t see a thing, and our targeting sensors weren’t reading the boarding vessels at all. It was as though the enemy ships weren’t even there. We were relying solely on the images captured during that brief period when the frequency of our sensors revealed their positions.
I said to Waters, “See anything?”
“Negative.”
“Why aren’t they firing on us?”
Waters said, “They haven’t got much in the way of defensive weapons in the first place. They definitely see us. But until we fire on them, they won’t be sure we see them.”
I said, “I’m thinking of throwing a spotlight on them, and launching Piranhas as soon as I can see the target and get it in my sights.”
“Might be suicide. Might be genius. Do it.”
I flipped on a spotlight. Nothing. I saw only the bottom of the Valley Forge. I panned the light back and forth. I could see nothing whatsoever out of the ordinary. I turned off the light.
Waters said, “Could they be gone?”
I said, “No. They’re there. They’re just well cloaked. I say we launch on spec, simultaneously.”
“Count us down.”
I said, “Nash, Lennox, sound good?”
They indicated that they liked the idea.
I said, “Three, two, one, launch.”
On the word “launch,” twenty-four Piranhas shot out toward the area beneath the Valley Forge. About half of the missiles missed their targets, but the other half connected beautifully with the boarding craft.
It was great to see, but we didn’t have time to enjoy the sight. The four of us dropped down, and almost immediately our places were taken by the other four Banshees, which all launched missiles, and which did so with perfect accuracy—since their targets were in various states of glowing, molten wreckage, with no remaining stealth-protection.
We destroyed all four boarding ships, and in two cases, the boarding ship was torn loose from the Valley Forge. In the other two cases, what remained attached was meaningless rubble.
17
Tragedy in the Turrets
All of the Banshees headed back to the fighter bay. I was thrilled that the eight of us returned unscathed. As we piloted our fighters into the bay, though, I was filled with apprehension. It was plain that the ventral turrets had been knocked out, but this was separate from the issue of whether we had lost any personnel. It could be that the guns were knocked out of commission, while the gunners remained unhurt. And it was possible that a gunner would be wounded, but not killed. I was worried, but hopeful.
On top of all that, my thought processes were not relaxed and coherent. I was riding on a distinct high as a result of our successful attack on the Kerleegan boarding craft.
I wanted to contact Talos for a report, but my mind was racing with so many thoughts that it was difficult for me even to concentrate on landing my Banshee. Waters and I were the last to reenter the Valley Forge. Within a second after enabling my magnets, fixing my Banshee to the deck of the bay, I glanced quickly around. Nash had been one of the first to land, and I saw him passing through the hatch that led to the port guns. All the others were still inside the bay.
Then I was on the comm line to Talos. I said, “Talos, update on our turrets, please.”
Talos said, “Ma’am, I’m very sorry, but we lost both Boyle and Adler.”
To be honest, that was the only information I was interested in. I was strangely callous about what else might have happened. I knew that any additional news would be bad, but to my mind it could not be as bad as what I had just heard. I said, “What else can you tell me?”
Talos said, “We lost all four ventral turrets. All four were entirely destroyed, and I pulled the guns, or what was left of them, and sealed the openings. The same applies to one port turret, two starboard turrets, and all four dorsal turrets.”
“What happened with Adler and Boyle?”
“They replaced gunners who had been killed,” Talos said, “and they in turn were killed. In all, we lost thirteen gunners.”
“Which turrets were Adler and Boyle in?” I raised my canopy and started to exit my craft.
Talos said, “They were in starboard turrets three and four. Boyle was in three, Adler in four.”
I said, “Anything else?”
“No, Ma’am, except that Midshipman Nash is moving rapidly from turret to turret. He probably is looking for Adler and Boyle. Do you want me to inform him as to what has happened?”
“No, don’t do that. I’ll do it, if I can reach him,” I said. “When can we expect the next wave of attacks?”
“Based on the current location of the Kerleegan forces and their normal methods, it will be at least fifteen minutes, and more likely twenty or so.”
I said, “Keep me posted if you ever revise that.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
I haven’t been alive forever, but one thing I’ve learned is that there is always someone who doesn’t get the news, whatever that news may be—good, bad, important, trivial. In this case, the one who missed the news was Nash.
When we returned to the bay, Nash immediately departed through the hatch that ultimately led to the ready-room. I was sure he had gotten it into his mind that he would find Boyle there, or in one of the nearby port turrets. That was reasonable, because the port turrets were nearest to the ready-room, where we had left Adler and Boyle.
Nash and Boyle had known each other since grade school, went through high school together, fought together in the Navy, and later entered the Academy at the same time. The two had been roommates straight through the Academy.
In spite of his flirting a little with me, Nash had met a girl at the Academy, and he had told me several times he had expected that they would marry. Same thing with Boyle (different girl). I had met both of the women, and it all seemed like a good plan to me.
Of course, as I already mentioned, I was engaged myself, so it was comforting to have friends who were in the same situation. I even had pictured a triple wedding, involving Nash, Boyle, and me, and our future spouses. As usual, though, my imagination had parted from the reality that was to be. And then I started wondering whether Joseph would survive long enough to marry me.
I scrambled down off of my Banshee and ran over to Lennox. I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her along with me. We neared Waters, and I said to him, “Did you get the bad news?”
Waters said, “I’m afraid so.”
I said, “Tell everybody who needs to know. Lennox and I are going to find Nash.”
18
The Two Gurneys
Lennox and I moved swiftly toward the turrets that had so ineffectively shielded my two friends. I was on the verge of tears, about Adler especially, since he had been so certain that the Navy would never put us students in a place where we might lose our lives. But it was also disappointing and sad that Boyle, a laid-back jokester, who I think really only wanted to loaf through this whole voyage, had lost his life as well. This loss was going to be terrible for Nash.
Lennox and I didn’t say anything to each other. Lennox never talked much anyway, and besides, there really was nothing to say.
We jogged from corridor to corridor. Lennox was a few paces in front of me.
I said, “Talos, is any of the ship decompressed?”
Talos said, “No, Ma’am. The boarding craft never penetrated the hull, though they weakened it in a few places.”
I said, “Hey, Lennox, let’s get rid of our helmets.”
Lennox came to a halt and immediately began unsealing her helmet. She said, “Good idea, I’ve been dying inside this thing.”
I smiled and nodded my head, “Same here.”
We hooked our helmets to our w
aists, so that our hands would be free to hold our M90s. I should say that it was rare that we did not have our M90s and our sidearms with us. In fact, the Banshees had a special holder for the M90s, next to the pilot’s seat.
We made a final turn to the left and were in the corridor that led to starboard-turrets three and four. Nearest to us was turret three, which had been manned by Boyle. The red light above the airlock was on, showing that the turret had suffered decompression. That by itself wasn’t too unusual, since turrets are often penetrated during combat, and that’s why all gunners wear EVA suits. In fact, sometimes the gunners will decompress the turret, if it looks like the turret will be breached. This avoids sudden decompression.
There was a gurney outside the turret, in the corridor. Nobody was around, other than Lennox and me. We moved in close to the airlock, since I assumed that medical personnel would be emerging soon with Boyle’s remains. Down the corridor was another gurney, near the airlock that led to Adler’s turret.
I said to Lennox, “Do you want to go down to Adler’s turret? Nash is probably making a big U-turn, and he could show up at any time over there by Adler. Not sure if we should let him come down here.”
Lennox said, “I’ll do that,” and she moved down the corridor at a trot.
Soon, the situation was simple. Lennox was by the gurney at Adler’s turret, and I remained by Boyle’s turret. I dreaded seeing Boyle’s remains, which, I believed, were probably thoroughly chewed up.
After about another minute, the airlock hatch opened, and two corpsmen were carrying Boyle’s body out. Poor Boyle. It wasn’t a pretty sight. I didn’t see any blood or wounds, but an enormous section of Boyle’s helmet had been torn off. The decompression killed him.
The corpsmen started lifting Boyle’s body onto the gurney.
One of the corpsmen said, “Friend of yours?”
I said, “Yes, we’re both midshipmen at the Academy. His name is Boyle.”
The corpsman said, “Right, I see that.” He tapped a clipboard that was resting on the gurney. “Raw deal for you middies. Come aboard for training, and then this.”
I said, “What happened?”
“Half the turret’s gone,” the corpsman said. “Talos has already pulled what’s left of the guns, and he’s sealed off the opening.”
I nodded and said, “Talos told me that.”
The corpsman said, “There’s a ton of debris in there, including some big pieces. I’m actually surprised Boyle’s remains aren’t torn up. Definitely a bad way to go, though.” He extended his hand and said, “I’m Miles Gray. This is Hector Guzman.”
I shook the hand of each of them and said, “Astrid Amundsen. Sorry to meet under these circumstances.”
Guzman said, “We all have our jobs.”
“That’s so,” I said. “I gather we lost all ventral turrets and all dorsal turrets, and a few others.”
Gray said, “Right, eleven turrets, and along with them, thirteen gunners.”
I said, “I wanted to say goodbye to Boyle here.” I patted Boyle two or three times on his stomach. “Also, Adler.”
Gray picked up a clipboard from the gurney. He looked at it and then said, “Next one down, turret four.” He pointed down the corridor, toward the other gurney, where two more corpsmen were loading Adler onto it.
I said, “I know. Lennox is down there. She’s gonna stop Boyle’s best friend from coming down here. She’ll tell him what happened.”
Guzman said, “We’ll get Boyle’s helmet off. We’ll cover his head with the sheet. If his friend wants to see, he’s welcome to. If it were me, I wouldn’t want to.”
I said, “I hear you.” I said goodbye to Gray and Guzman, and I moved down the corridor.
The situation at Adler’s turret was similar to that of Boyle’s. The red light was on. The corpsmen were strapping Adler’s body down, and Lennox was talking with them.
In the distance, Nash swung into the corridor.
19
Lennox Says Boyle Is Dead
Lennox raised her arm, and Nash moved quickly toward her. When he arrived, Lennox patted Nash’s helmet, and he removed it, with Lennox’s help.
I was now about fifty feet from them, and I could hear their voices, in muffled tones. I couldn’t make anything out.
Lennox moved to place herself between Nash and the gurney that held Boyle.
They spoke a little more. Nash moved toward Lennox. She backed up a little, and they exchanged a few more words.
Then, unexpectedly, Nash grabbed Lennox’s shoulders and threw her roughly aside, and he started to jog towards me.
But Lennox recovered in no time, and Nash was running slowly, with hesitation. Lennox caught up with Nash and threw her arms around his waist.
At this time, I was only twenty feet from the two of them.
Nash looked at me, and he stopped resisting.
Lennox released him from her hold.
Nash remained standing where he was, and he said, “Lennox says Boyle is dead. Is that true?”
I said, “Nash, I’m so sorry.”
Lennox stepped around Nash so that she could stand beside me.
Nash looked utterly defeated. His shoulders slumped, and he stared at the deck and shook his head.
Lennox and I looked at each other and shrugged slightly.
Then Nash seemed to recover a little, and he nodded a few times. He looked at me and asked, “Boyle is being taken care of?”
I said, “Yes, he is, Nash.”
Nash said, “Let’s check on Adler. Maybe he’s okay.”
Lennox said, “Nash, he’s not.”
“But he might be,” Nash said. “Let’s go check on him.”
Neither Lennox nor I replied.
The three of us walked back to Adler’s gurney. His helmet was on the gurney by his feet. The corpsmen were about to wheel him away, but they stopped when they saw us.
Nash said to the corpsmen, “We need to check on Adler. I think he’s still alive.”
The corpsmen looked quickly at Lennox and me.
Lennox said, “Right, we need to make sure.” She was just being kind. Lennox and I were already sure.
I wasn’t all that interested in getting a closer look.
One of the corpsmen pulled the sheet back off Adler, down to his thighs.
“I don’t see any wounds,” Nash said. “He’s alive all right. He’s knocked out. That’s all that’s wrong.”
One of the corpsmen said, “No, we checked and double checked, and triple checked. We checked brain activity and heart, everything.”
Nash said, “But he wasn’t even hit.”
At this point, the corpsmen must have understood that Nash wasn’t acting rationally. My own view was that Nash was using Adler as a test case. If Adler were still alive, then Boyle was also alive.
I glanced behind us, and I saw that the corpsmen with Boyle were not moving. Likely, they knew what was going on and figured they would wait until the situation resolved itself.
With his voice full of understanding and compassion, the corpsman said to Nash, “This happens sometimes. The gunner sustains fatal wounds, maybe many. The suit seals up the small openings on its own. Little if any blood makes it outside the suit. In this case Adler took a lot of hits. Sad to see this happen to you guys.”
Nash looked bewildered.
The corpsman pointed to several places on Adler’s suit. “See? Here, and here, and here, and down there. All in places your armor plates don’t cover. And then probably fifty hits where the plates worked.”
Nash’s voice was hoarse when he said, simply, “I see.”
“Most of the hits,” the corpsman said, “were from tiny fragments spraying in through openings in the turret. You know, from collisions of the enemy missiles and fighters.”
I said, “Makes me wonder whether we need better plates, or more of them.”
The corpsman said, “You do. Here the Kerleegans penetrated the turret’s shielding, and its armor. That�
�s unusual. But when they want to get rid of a turret, they keep at it, to the point of suicide. They’ll send missile after missile, to kind of soften things up. Then if necessary they’ll crash fifteen or twenty fighters into a turret. It’s hard to withstand that type of attack.”
I said, “Right, hard.” I patted Adler twice on the stomach, following the little tradition I had started with Boyle.
Lennox and Nash did the same.
We shook hands with the corpsmen as best we could with our bulky gloves, and said farewell.
I said to Nash and Lennox, “Let’s go this way,” as I gestured toward the stern. We moved out on a route that would take us away from Boyle.
I turned briefly to Gray and Guzman, who were now starting to wheel Boyle away.
I raised my arm in thanks, and they saluted.
20
Back in the Ready-Room
Soon, we were back in the ready-room. The eight Marines were there, I suppose just waiting for the next assault on the Valley Forge. All eight of them were armed with shotguns, so they all expected the next action to take place on board the ship.
Lennox, Nash, and I sat at one of the tables. Nash was across from Lennox and me.
Waters and the other Marines kept their distance. They didn’t say anything.
Nash was silent, seemingly lost in thought. His hands were on his lap, and his face bore a slightly stern expression.
Nash looked up at Lennox and me, but his expression hardly changed.
I said, “You all right, Nash?”
Nash said, softly, almost as though he were in a daze, “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
I sighed, and I said, “Well . . . Boyle.”
Nash smiled subtly and said, “Boyle?” He paused, then repeated himself. “Boyle?” He tapped the table with his finger, then reached to his throat and pulled up on a slender chain. Affixed to the chain was a pendant, in the form of a little gold medal. Nash grabbed the medal in his right hand and balled the hand into a fist.
Astrid's War Page 6