Geoff Tolwyn, in spite of his exhaustion, forced a smile as the shuttle craft door swung open. He walked forward, extending his hand as President Kruger, followed by Jason, Paladin, Doomsday and Richards, stepped down.
Kruger hesitated ever so briefly and then took Geoff's hand.
"Damn it all, Kruger, thank you."
"I'm rather surprised myself that I did it," Kruger said. "It was your young commodore there who just kept badgering me until finally, to shut him up, I said all right."
Geoff looked at the group and though he was afraid to ask he had to.
"Ian?"
Jason shook his head.
Geoff sighed and then came up to shake Jason's hand.
"How are you doing, sir?" Jason asked.
"A terrible day, Jason."
Jason hesitated and then finally asked.
"Kevin?"
"Missing in action," Geoff said quietly.
"He might still turn up, sir."
Geoff nodded, unable to reply.
Jason looked around at the smoke-filled flight deck.
"Looks like it was kind of rough here."
Geoff couldn't even reply. He had lost three carriers, Lexington finally succumbing to internal explosions, and over seventy percent of his pilots. First reports indicated that the Marines had suffered over ninety percent casualties. Duke Grecko was confirmed as dead, his landing craft crew telling what happened. As for the civilian pilots, their casualties were almost at one hundred percent. The primary bases on the moon were all gone, as were the drydock yards and three carriers hangared there. The casualties on Earth, he didn't even want to think about that. The only bright spot was that for some reason the Cats had not launched a wave of strontium clad thermonukes. England had been spared as well, though it seemed at the moment to be an almost selfish thing to think about.
Geoff led his guests down to his wardroom and without even asking, pulled out a bottle of single malt Scotch, six tumblers and poured out six very stiff drinks, draining the bottle dry.
"To our comrades," he said quietly, and they silently drank the toast.
Geoff settled back in his chair and looked around.
"If this is victory," Geoff finally said, "I sure as hell would hate to see defeat."
"You stopped the bloody Cats at least, sir," Jason replied. "Hell, three of their super carriers blown apart, more than half their best pilots gone, forty other ships crippled. I heard the report coming in that they're dumping fighters off their carrier as they retreat, not even enough room to haul them all out."
Geoff nodded, fighting an exhaustion that had all but robbed him of any ability to do anything beyond sitting in silence and staring.
"I heard about Polowski, sir," Doomsday said.
Geoff looked over at him. When he had ordered Mike in, he knew in his heart that Polowski would get his revenge and die doing it. If the Cats had miscalculated anything, it was that. They had pushed the intimidation a notch too far, and rather than terrorize it had aroused every pilot, spacer, and Marine in the fleet to a willingness to die rather than submit. He suspected that Jukaga had realized that but it was obvious that Thrakhath never would.
The war had changed, changed far from anything that either side had ever anticipated. The manipulation of the human desire for peace had backfired, their collective rage turning the enemy back, though at best it was a Pyrrhic victory.
The Cats still had seven more heavy carriers close to completion. If they came on again, he dreaded to think what would happen. They had shot their bolt in turning back the attack. Perhaps the new dreadnought-class battleship under construction on the far side of the Confederation might reverse that, but in his heart he doubted if it would be ready in time to repulse the next attack.
All he could be certain of now was the fact that those who had survived this attack would stand united to the end. He could even see that in the eyes of Kruger, who, upon seeing him, lifted his glass in a salute.
"To the Confederation Fleet," Kruger said.
"And to comrades gone," Paladin replied softly.
"Admiral Tolwyn."
Geoff looked over at the comm screen, dreading that it was yet another battle report stating that the Kilrathi had turned about and were coming back.
"The Kilrathi?" he blurted out.
"Their carriers have already jumped through in retreat, sir, still trailing abandoned fighters. Cruisers are now jumping out as well. Picket squadrons are reporting no further action."
He let out an audible sigh of relief. The battle was really over.
"Admiral, sir, you're wanted on the port flight deck."
"Why?"
"Don't know, sir. Launch officer requested your presence, that's all."
"On my way."
Geoff stood up, his knees suddenly weak and Jason rose from his chair coming up to his side.
"I'll go down with you, sir."
Geoff smiled a thanks and looked back at his guests.
"There's another bottle in the cabinet. Finish it off," he said quietly.
"Best advice I've had in weeks, "Doomsday replied even as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the chewed on remains of the cigar Ian had given him.
"Geoff, for heaven's sake," Kruger interjected, "would you order him to get rid of that god-awful cigar? It's enough to turn my stomach."
"Hell, he's still officially Landreich," Geoff replied. "He's your responsibility, not mine."
Doomsday pulled out a lighter and puffed the cigar to life, Kruger, Richards and Paladin cursing him while they poured out another drink.
Geoff left the wardroom and headed back to the launch deck, pressing up against the wall as a med team came past, bearing a stretcher, a bloody towel draped over the body's face.
Geoff watched it silently as they passed.
Jason reached out, and put his hand on Geoff's shoulder.
"No matter what you might think, you did good, sir. Earth is still alive, the Confederation still lives."
"And how many did I lose, Jason?"
"I once asked the same thing after Vukar Tag, sir. It's the nature of war, you told me. Even when you win, it still breaks your heart and will crush your soul if you let it."
"And you call this winning?"
"It's a damn sight better than what the Cats wanted. You turned them back and you brought us time."
Geoff nodded and then continued on, reaching the flight deck. The launch officer was by the door.
"I thought you should come down here, sir. We just brought some casualties in."
Geoff looked at him, confused, as the officer pointed him over to a flame scorched landing craft. Its back hatch was open, pilots and Marines, most of them wounded and still in their pressurized flight and combat suits, being helped out.
Geoff looked back at the launch officer who smiled and nodded.
Geoff ran to the back of the landing craft, Jason at his side, and climbed in.
On the flight deck was a bundled up form, two medics working over him, one holding an IV, another injecting an anti-radiation dose straight in through his suit.
Geoff knelt down by their side.
A blood-stained medic looked up and she smiled softly.
"Picked him up an hour ago. He caught a hell of a dose, sir, over four hundred rem. He's gonna be a sick fighter jockey for awhile but we got him anti-radiation dosed in time. He'll be all right."
Geoff nodded and looked over at Jason.
Kevin Tolwyn opened his eyes and saw Jason first.
"Hi ya, Jason. What the hell you doing here?"
"Came to save your ass, boy, that's all."
Kevin smiled weakly and then saw his uncle kneeling by his side.
"Did we win?" he whispered.
Admiral Geoffrey Tolwyn nodded, no longer able to fight back the tears.
"Yes, son, we won."
1994