"Aye, sir."
"And CHENG, how's Buckley?" Benny's mention of the wounded AEMs suggested to the CO that he had been down to see his MPA in sickbay.
"Not good, sir. The swelling in his limbs was so bad that it was easier to amputate them. All of them. Same for EM1 Shah. The doc says that they have a good chance of surviving if they can manage the swelling in their brains without causing too much gray matter damage. It would mean a lot to them if you saw them, sir." Benny cursed abruptly at somebody in the background. "Uh, sir, if that's all?"
"Yes, CHENG, get back to work."
"Aye, sir."
Captain Jefferson stretched his neck by rolling his head a full clockwise circle. He stood and then stretched the kinks from his back as well. A quick survey of the bridge crew assured him that things were in good hands and that jobs were getting done. His crew needed some morale boosting from the senior staff.
Uncle Timmy, I need a break from the mindview. Shut it down for a bit. For more than thirty hours, he had been in DTM mindview active mode, and the massive sensory input was overloading his ability to think rationally. He needed to shut it off and just see things normally for a while—at least for a few minutes.
Aye, sir. It probably would help for you to get some rest too, sir.
Later, Timmy. Later. He inhaled a long, deep breath and let it out with a slow sigh through pursed lips.
Aye, sir.
"Larry." Jefferson turned to his trusted XO, who looked just as tired and frazzled as him, though the marine colonel wouldn't dare admit it. "Why don't we take a stroll down to the triage hangar and then by sickbay? Charlie, you want to join us?"
"Absolutely, sir," the COB replied. He, on the other hand, had finished off several pots of hot and very strong coffee and was wired wide awake. "I was thinking that there was probably some bored sailors down there that wouldn't mind hearing a story or two."
"Air Boss."
"Sir?"
"Stay on top of the casualty retrieval. Let me know when we get them all in."
"Aye, sir."
"And spin up two SH-102s for the CHENG to recover materials from the planetoid."
"Aye."
Captain Walker's ship had come out of the scuffle a little less battered than the Madira. The U.S.S. Anthony Blair had only taken a couple of direct hits from the mass driver before the marines had taken it from the Seppies. The jaunt drive systems had been down for a brief time during the battle, but all her major systems were functioning to some extent, and it was her job to keep the vigil over the system in case more enemy ships teleported in from nowhere. She had also sent a team of her own AEMs along with some engineers and techs to both mass driver sights to relieve the Robots and to maintain them. The mass drivers would have to play a major role in protecting the facility until more Navy Fleet vessels could arrive. And that could be more than a week.
"Bill, how's my crew doing?" She leaned back in her office chair and wiped at her tired eyes with a moist towelette. She had left the bridge hours before to grab a bite to eat and to think through her next few days. The senior staff worked as a well-oiled Navy machine, and now that the major threat of combat was over, she needed to let them do their jobs for a while so that she could think about their predicament from a more strategic and long-term perspective.
"The wounded are still pouring in, and a lot of our wounded were taken to the Madira." CMC PO Bill Edwards sat opposite the captain when she nodded for him to sit. Sharon had ordered the COB to do a walk around the supercarrier and then report on morale to her. "Once things calm down and all wounded have been accounted for, I'd suggest swapping out crew. Our wounded will recover better in familiar surroundings. Not that Captain Jefferson doesn't have a fine ship, but home is home, ma'am."
"Okay, that makes sense. You and, uh . . ." She couldn't recall the Madira's COB's name, so her AIC quickly told her, but not before Bill did.
"Charlie, ma'am."
"Right, Charlie. You two get together and see if there is an easy way to make that move." Sharon covered her mouth and tried to stifle a yawn but wasn't very successful.
"If you don't mind my saying so, ma'am . . ."
"I do, Bill. I'll take some stims. Drop it."
"Okay, then. We're in pretty good shape. Our guys feel like we whupped up on the Seppies even though we took quite a beating. Morale is good. I'd say it's a little worse over on the Madira. They could use some hull plating also. We need to get our CHENG hooked up with their CHENG, ma'am."
"All right, I'll tell the XO." Fullback leaned back and shut her eyes for a few seconds and didn't make a sound. She considered taking a short nap, but what message would that give the crew? No, she needed to be seen for now, and there were still hundreds, maybe thousands, of tasks that she needed to watch over closely to make sure they would be prepared for the days ahead. "Anything else, Bill?"
"Not really, Captain. Just, this was a hell of a fight, and we've got a big-assed mess to clean up. I guess we do need to start figuring out where we're gonna keep the Seppy wounded and captured. Most of them fought to the end, but there are still a couple hundred that didn't. We don't have room in the ship for them."
"You know, I hadn't really thought about that. Better get with the XO and figure out if there is someplace in the facility that we can set up as a temporary holding location."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Anything else?"
"Not really. But, there is one more thing to consider. We need to figure out how all these wounded are going to get to vote on Tuesday." The COB smirked a little at that, but he knew it was a logistics issue that would have to be thought about.
"Shit. Okay, I'm officially not asking 'anything else' again. Because every time I do, Bill, you say 'Not really, but . . .,' so I'm not asking you again." Sharon showed him a very short and thin smile.
"Good idea, ma'am."
Chapter 27
November 1, 2388 AD
Washington, D.C.
Sunday, 5:35 PM, Earth Eastern Standard Time
Alexander sat calmly waiting for something to happen. Anything. Another wild accusation from the media or Congress would be better than nothing at all, but sometimes waiting was all that could be done. There was one day left before the election, and he had nothing yet that would allow him to turn the tables on the DNC's impeachment tactic. But he had put out a few calls for help. He just had to wait and see if anyone would answer his call.
Mr. President, your wife is here to see you, Abigail interrupted his solemn moment.
Oh? Great. Send her in.
Sehera sauntered through the door like a tall leggy runway model. Her height was a product of good genes and growing up on Mars, where the gravity was a little less than on Earth. That and the long dark hair and the milky white skin gave her an exotic attractiveness that camouflaged her steely, relentless resolve. She had grown up during some really bad times on the red planet and had developed a toughness and an edge that only hard times could create. But, by God, she was beautiful. Moore watched her slim figure swaying back and forth at the hips as her heels click-clacked one in front of the other across the tile of his office.
"Alexander, you've been hiding all day." She smiled playfully and sat in his lap, kissing him.
"If it ain't one thing it's another. What with running the country, fighting off terrorists, and getting impeached and all." He started to grin, but she punched him on the shoulder before he could. "Ouch."