He slipped into the bridge and nodded. She hit the door control and watched the heavy blast door slide into position with a solid thunk. She then locked the door. No one would get through again without explosives.
She slid to the floor, both legs on fire now, but she knew Durham was in worse shape. He glanced at her, the glance carefully categorizing her wounds and discarding them for the moment, then he went to Sergeant Peabody. Peabody was unconscious, his face peeled like a tomato.
“He’s still breathing,” Durham reported. “Don’t know how much longer he’ll last. He’s lost his eyes for sure. How bad are you hit, Ma’am?” he demanded.
“I’ve never hurt more, but I’ll survive. Do what you can for him. I’ll try to get a medic up here.” She clawed her way to the console she’d been seated at and donned the helmet, both legs screaming. She plugged in but had trouble concentrating on the simplest task. She managed to call for a medic, then jerked the helmet from her head. The ship would just have to do without her for a while.
Sergeant Durham was busy wrapping his buddy in gauze, concentrating mostly on his head. “Antipersonnel grenade of some kind,” he answered her unspoken question. “Looks like it sent out millions of tiny fragments rather than just blowing up into big pieces. Our body armor helped. Peabody took it in the head and shoulders.”
“Don’t give up on him,” she ordered. “I know a guy who had his whole shoulder and arm shot off. We grew him a new one. Just keep him alive until we can get one of these Empire doctors revived, and he’ll have a good chance of fighting another day.”
Durham’s eyes narrowed as he looked into her eyes, though his hands kept up their work. Then his gaze shifted to the rest of her body. “You’re not in the best shape yourself,” he announced.
“I’m better than I would have been if you hadn’t covered me up,” she responded grimly. “Thanks.” Looking him over, she announced, “You’re next. Your arm and leg look like hamburger.”
“Sorry to say it, Ma’am, but you look just as bad. Can you still control the ship?”
“In a moment. My Rider will help once the scree stops. I can deal with the pain, but it confuses the AI running the net. Guess they’re not programmed for such.”
He finished wrapping Peabody, then reached into his kit and removed a container of pills. “Take these,” he ordered, handing the container to her. “Take as many as you want. They won’t prevent you from functioning.”
“No, I’ll wait for my Rider to take care of me. Take them yourself, and give me those bandages. It’s your turn,” she announced.
“No,” he replied grimly. “We lose everything if we lose the ship. You have to get back to work. I’ll do what I can for the rest of the crew here, then patch us both up while you’re plugged in.”
She nodded as she reached for the helmet. “I’ll do a better job of it this time,” she said. “I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
“That’s how we all learn,” he said with a tight grimace. “And don’t worry about me, I’m not as bad as I look.”
She entered the net and tried to contact the frigate, but no one responded. They were probably fighting just as intensely, she decided.
She studied the situation on the cruiser through the net’s sensors. Nearly all the remaining Chessori were bottled up in Communications and Crew Accommodations, and the fighting was intense. She detailed a few men to take care of Chessori stragglers, then concentrated on the main fighting.
She queried the net, having come to the same conclusion Mike had reached during the battle aboard the cruiser orbiting Brodor. Was it possible to vent certain compartments to space? It was, but doing so would kill any friendly Empire crewmen in the affected area. She decided things were not yet bad enough to take that desperate step.
Her men secured the Communications section an hour later. Despite their exhaustion, she detailed one squad to hold Communications and sent the others to reinforce the squads in Crew Accommodations.
The fighting continued for hours. The Terran commander eventually called an all clear, but the call was unnecessary. The scree had ceased, and for only one reason. Reba collapsed into her seat, exhausted.
The survivors from the original crew revived after the scree stopped, and as they did so, they resumed control of the ship. The captain and most of the bridge crew were dead, though the squadron commander had only minor injuries. Reba knew there were Rebel sympathizers on board, but the squadron commander would have to sort them out in his own way. At least they had succeeded in removing the Chessori, of whom there were no survivors. The frigate had come back on line several hours earlier. All the Chessori there had been killed, as well.
As damage reports came in to the bridge, her officers were aghast. The Chessori had killed unarmed men wherever they were encountered, decimating the Empire ranks. Her Raiders had suffered as well, losing 20 men with another 35 wounded, losses totaling 55%. It had not been a good day. Sick bay was operating at a capacity it had never been designed for.
Results from the other two battle groups were tight beamed to Reba; they had experienced much the same. The ships had been secured, but some 15% of their crewmembers had been killed, and another 30% wounded. Reba reported all this to Korban over the tightbeam communicator.
“Can you continue with your mission?” he asked, deep concern evident in his eyes.
“We’re decimated, and the crews of your ships are decimated. We’ll have to change the plan. I need fresh replacements from the ground to take the rest of the squadrons.”
“Hold your positions. You can’t return here at the moment. There are some new developments. I’ll get back to you.”
Korban called Chandrajuski. “The operation was a success, but there are some problems. We’re not able to deal with the far squadrons at the moment. Do you have resources that I’m not aware of?”
“If you can hold the planet, I’ll take care of things out here.”
Korban’s eyebrows rose. “You can do that?”
“I can, but I can’t take the planet, and that’s the key. Can you?”
“Without your presence, I’d be at the end of my holding game, but now… yes, sir. Definitely. We need to coordinate our activities.”
“That will be difficult. Tight beams are not completely secure, and I expect there will be leaks from your staff. I need at least a week. Two weeks would be better.”
“I’ll give you a week, but I can’t promise more. Discovery of the missing Chessori crew members is going to be the catalyst. I’ll keep that quiet as long as I can. Don’t forget that Rebel reinforcements are on the way, and I don’t know their make-up or timing.”
“Then we both have our assignments, my friend. Alert your squadrons out here to accept visitors, friends of mine. Those visitors are to be added to a special list, increasing the number from three to four. Understood?”
A grin split Korban’s face. “I wish I knew what you had in mind. Consider it done. Should I hold Reba in reserve?”
“No. If my plan fails, she will not have access.”
Chandrajuski put his plan into effect immediately while Reba and the three squadrons delayed their return to Orion III. Two more of Chandrajuski’s squadrons emerged from hyper, and a week later all three of Korban’s outlying squadrons accepted a visitor, in each case dropped off by a single fighter that departed immediately. None of this was out of the ordinary.
Each of the visitors was a senior Terran pilot from one of Chandrajuski’s cruisers, and each was a volunteer. Aboard Zygtta’s cruiser, Chandrajuski accompanied the visitor. When the door closed behind them in Zygtta’s private office, Chandrajuski introduced Commander Bill Hardesty.