“Gentlemen, Ladies. We have had quite enough for now, but we have much to talk about. I propose a recess of two hours to reconvene at 1800 hours.”
Taylor was the first to get up. He had been eager to get out of the room from the moment he first stepped foot in it. He went out into the corridor but felt a hand on his shoulder forcing him to turn back. He turned and found Bletchley standing behind him.
“Colonel Taylor, I must ask your help. You have had a good relation with the people of the United Kingdom for some time. Will you hear me?”
“No,” Taylor said firmly.
He turned and walked away, but Bletchley ran after him and went past to block his path.
“Colonel, don’t you see what is going on here? Both of our countries were built on democracy, and we have both fought to defend it in our own way.”
Taylor shook his head.
“I didn’t fight for democracy. I fought for our survival.”
“But you would fight for it, wouldn’t you? Just as your founding fathers did? Admiral Huber is seizing control of the people of this fleet without any authority to do so. He is tearing up all that we built over the last few hundred years. He’s a tyrant, Colonel.”
Taylor carried on walking, but this time Bletchley put a hand on his chest and tried to stop him in his tracks with physical force.
“Colonel…please…”
Taylor took a hold of his wrist and twisted until he released his hand from the pain and then pushed him up against the bulkhead beside them.
“Listen to me, and you listen good, you hear? I don’t care for your politics. I don’t care for what party you support, where you are on the political spectrum, or if you agree or disagree with a single military decision. You work at the will of the Admiral, and I will not have you trying to undermine his command or authority. The next time I hear anything of the sort; I will consider it mutinous behaviour and treat you accordingly. Do you hear me?”
He kept a firm grip on the man’s wrist and squeezed a little tighter so that he squirmed.
“Yes, yes, okay!”
Taylor released his grip and carried on the way he had intended. Bletchley did not say another word as he left, but he knew he would be a problem in the future. Without even looking at his face, he could imagine the scorn and anger in the man’s face.
He isn’t one to forget, Taylor thought.
He headed right for his bunk. He knew if he didn't get sleep soon he would drop where he stood. When he reached their billets, he found Silva waiting for him at the entrance as he had before.
"Don't you ever sleep?" Taylor asked him.
"I get what I need."
It was clear Silva wanted or needed to talk to him, so he stopped and waited for him to continue.
"Sir, I have our casualty list."
Taylor nodded for him to continue.
"Sixty-four dead, twenty-one wounded."
Taylor shook his head. "That's about a quarter of our strength wiped out just like that, in a day?"
"Yes, Sir," replied Silva sombrely. Taylor tried to move on, but Silva placed a hand gently on his shoulder, causing him to stop.
"We can't carry on like this anymore," Silva added, "We take on the worst shit missions every time they come up, and pay a dear price for it, now more than ever. We keep this up, and there won't be anything left of the Regiment."
"So who would you have do the job we do?" he asked, "We have the greatest fighting force in the fleet and an amalgamation of some of the best soldiers and marines from around the World."
"Right now we do, but not if we carry on down this road."
"We're at war. We can't fight a war without losses, but neither can we continue onwards without replacing those losses."
Silva waited for him to continue, as if expecting some magical solution to their problem.
"It's time we did some recruiting and replenished the ranks."
"But how? Where do we get them from?"
"There are three million souls in this fleet. Some of them will be up to the task."
"People yes, but not elite fighting men and women."
"We can't be too fussy anymore. We can only do what we can with the resources we have. You leave it to me."
He carried on towards his bunk and simply jumped in, without even taking his boots off. He thought of those he had lost. He didn't even know who of his friends and comrades were dead yet. But he thought of how helpless he felt. There was nothing for him to do. No family to contact, no chance of a proper burial on home soil. He thought of recommending medals to both those who survived and posthumous ones, but it seemed so redundant.
"Colonel Taylor, Sir?"
He recognised Watkins who had fought beside him earlier that day. He lay flat on his bed and programmed an alarm on his watch as he replied.
"What is it, Private?"
"We're going to make it, aren't we, Sir?"
"In what way?"
"We're going to make it home, aren't we?"
It was a nice thought, and Taylor couldn't bear to disappoint him.
"Humanity was born to live on Earth, and someday we'll return," he finally replied.
It was a deliberately vague, if somewhat still hopeful answer, and he hoped it would be enough for Watkins, but no response came.
"You stick with me and keep doing what you're doing, and all will be fine."
With that, he shut his eyes and fell asleep in just a few seconds. Next thing he knew his alarm was buzzing. He’d had no dreams that he could remember, and it felt as if he'd only laid down two minutes ago. He sat up, but there wasn't quite enough headroom, so he had to slough. He groaned, as he had no choice but to get out and stand up. His body was aching and stiff, but he actually felt surprisingly well rested. Then he remembered he was due back in session with the leaders of the fleet.
Ah shit, not again!
He turned around and saw an officer approaching. He smiled for a moment, thinking it was Jones, but as he rubbed his eyes and began to focus properly, he could see it was Captain Morris and remembered Jones was no longer of this world.
"Well, that's a downer," he muttered.
Morris overheard him as he neared, "Nice to see you, too, Colonel."
"Forget about it. I was in another world."
"How was it? Think I can join you there?"
Taylor nodded in agreement. "If only."
"Has Silva given you the casualty list?"
Taylor nodded and grimaced at the thought of it.
"Most of them I never got an opportunity to know or even learn their names," replied Morris, "But you have my word, I will do my utmost to ensure respectful burials and a service fitting of their bravery."
"Thank you."
He carried on past Morris, heading for the door at a shambling pace of a man who did not want to go where he must.
"You're the right man, you know," Morris said.
Taylor turned around surprised. He did not understand.
"To be advising the leaders of the fleet. You're the right man for it."
"Why?" he asked out of curiosity.
"Because there are men and women with great leadership skills, but you bring more heart and soul to the table of any situation than they can hope to imagine."
"Stop kissing my ass, Captain," he said with a grin.
"I mean it. We got this far because of you, Colonel, and don't you forget it. Trust your gut. It has gotten us all as far in life as we have. Don't stop doing that now."
Taylor nodded in agreement and turned to leave. He still wasn't sure how much he believed Morris, but it brought a smile to his face and instantly made him feel better about the day. It wasn't long before once again he was stepping into the room of high-ranking officers and civilian officials. He was the last one to arrive. He knew he was late by a few minutes, but no one dared say a word. They looked at the dry bloodstains on his uniform that were both his own and the enemies, but again said nothing. Everyone waited for Huber to speak.