She was too busy to keep track of the battle, but she knew the rebels were being pushed back. The hospital was on the Rock, a small, heavily fortified island just off the north coast of Carlisle. The deep caverns there were the safest place to keep the wounded, so that’s where she’d set things up.
“It’s bad out here, Sarah.” Sam’s voice on the comlink. “I think these wounded are from the missile crews. Looks like they were shelled pretty heavily. Some of them are in rough shape.”
Sam was a veteran. If she said it was bad, it was bad. “OK, get the most urgent cases in here now.” She paused. “Sam, remember we don’t have any crit care units.” She hesitated again, not wanting to say what she had to say. “You’re going to have to segregate the hopeless cases. If we can’t save them we need to preference the ones who have a chance.”
“Sarah…” Sam’s voice was somber, troubled. “Yes, I understand.” She didn’t like it, but she knew Sarah was right. “I’ll take care of it.”
Sarah didn’t answer. As far as she was concerned, the less said about it the better. They did what they had to do. They saved as many as they could.
“Parker!” She was yelling now, looking around trying to find her assistant. “Parker, get over here!”
Parker Rand had been her assistant on Armstrong, and he’d jumped when she asked for volunteers. Rand was a rimworlder whose sympathies were firmly with the rebels. He came running over, wiping his face with a towel as he did. “Yes, Colonel Linden?”
“Parker, I need you to get that forward cave set up. Sam’s going to be moving the hopeless cases there in a few.” She motioned with her head, indicating the chamber she meant. “I want you to administer pain control meds and sedatives to the men and women there.” She knew she should be careful on the meds – they were already running low. But she was sending those men and women in there to die, and the least she would do was make sure they were as comfortable as she could make them.
“Yes, colonel.” He turned to leave.
“And Parker?”
“Yes, colonel?”
“Talk to the ones who are conscious.” God, she hated this. “Don’t let them die alone.”
“I will, colonel.” His voice was a little weak. Rand hadn’t been in the places Sarah had, and he was overwhelmed by all the death and suffering. “Don’t you worry, colonel, I’ll take care of it.” He turned and jogged off to carry out her orders.
She sighed as she struggled to close the gaping wound she’d been working on. He’ll make it, at least, she thought, looking down at the torn up rebel on the table. He didn’t look much like a soldier. “What are you, a fisherman? A tailor?” She knew she wouldn’t get an answer; she didn’t really want one.
“We’ve got to pull back to the Rock.” Anton’s voice was hoarse, and Marek could hear the pain, despite the big man’s attempts to hide it. It wasn’t a critical wound on Anton’s shoulder, but it was a painful one.
“We’re done if we get penned in there.” Marek knew Anton was right, but he was struggling, desperately trying to think of an alternative. “You know that.”
“John…we’re done if we stay on Carlisle. The lines are broken in four places.” Anton grabbed his friend’s arm. “We can hold out a while longer on the Rock. You know how deep those caverns are.” He looked back over his shoulder, in the direction of the nearest fighting. “If we stay here we’ll lose the whole army.”
Marek let out a long, slow breath. He’d been in tough spots before. The battle on the Lysandra Plateau on Carson’s World had been one of the bitterest ever fought. He was grievously wounded and sure all was lost. But General Cain held his people together, and they won the battle.
But it had been I Corps on Carson’s World…and Erik Cain’s 1 st Brigade on the Lysandra Plateau. Marek was proud of his troops, but he couldn’t compare them to the elite veterans who fought that famous battle. Anton was right. The army was disintegrating.
“OK, we’ll pull back.” Marek barely managed to croak out the words. “But we’ll need a rearguard. I’ll take the militia and the veterans and we’ll set up a defense at Monty’s Gap. That should…”
“Hold on.” Anton put his good arm in the air as he interrupted. “Don’t even think about leading the rearguard. You’re the army commander. You get your ass out to the Rock and set up a command post.”
“But…”
“No buts.” Anton’s eyes bored into Marek’s. “Don’t make me be insubordinate. You’re the commander of this army and it needs you. The whole army, not just the delaying force.” Anton put his hand on Marek’s shoulder. “John, you get the army off Carlisle and onto the Rock. I’ll hook up with Colonel Jax and we’ll hold the Gap long enough for you to get everyone evac’d.”
Marek hated the plan. He hated it with a passion. But he knew it was what he had to do. “OK, let’s do it. But we’ll have to evacuate civilians too. I can’t even imagine what kind of reprisals Cooper has in mind for Carlisle.” He looked up at Anton. “And you…no crazy chances. Take care of yourself…you understand?”
Anton nodded, but he didn’t say another word.
Arlen Cooper was smiling, but the generals on the transport with him wore non-descript expressions. They were winning the battle, but the losses had been staggering. The federal forces had suffered at least 10,000 casualties, and possibly twice that. No one seemed to know for sure. Communications, logistics, command…it was all a confused mess.
Cooper stepped out of the transport, and he sank almost to his knees in the mud, swearing bitterly. He’d wanted to come out to Carlisle Island to see what was really going on, but he’d never get used to what a mess battlefields were. “Help me out of here!” He was waving his arms and trying to pull his leg out of the muck. His aides scrambled through the mud, struggling to pull him free.
“General Strom, report.” Cooper was walking toward the federal military commander, stamping his feet to shake some of the mud off his legs. He had a rough relationship with Strom, and he hoped the general wasn’t going to give him a hard time. Cooper was already annoyed, and he wasn’t in the mood to put up with any shit from Strom.
“Welcome to Carlisle Island, Governor.” Strom was in good spirits. Like Cooper, Strom wasn’t overly concerned about casualties as long as he was victorious. The army could always draft more Cogs to fill the ranks. “The rebels are broken and in wholesale flight. We are in pursuit and rounding them up even now.”
“General, it is my understanding from reports that the rebels are retreating to a fortified island off the northern coast.” Cooper detested Strom, and he was going to hold the officious pain in the ass accountable. He’d already lost an enormous number of troops, and as far as Cooper could see from the dispatches, the rebels were pulling back in good order. “I presume you are moving to cut them off and prevent this.”
“Governor, the tactical realities of the campaign are, I am sure, quite beyond…”
“General!” Cooper interrupted Strom harshly. “If you are able to trap the rebels on Carlisle Island, we can end this rebellion today.” And you and I can get off of this miserable rock, he thought. “If they are allowed to escape with a significant force intact we will have to assault them again.” He glared at Strom. The general was seething with rage, but so far he’d held his tongue. “Considering the state of our own army after your glorious…” – he drew the word out in a mocking tone – “…victory, I can only imagine how long that will take.”
Strom’s body quivered with rage. “Governor, I realize you do not understand military matters, so I will excuse your insult.”
“General Strom…” Cooper’s eyes bored right into the general’s. “I couldn’t care less what you excuse or do not excuse. You have a job to do, and I suggest you focus on cutting off the rebel retreat.”