Lafier put on her uniform and hurried over to the bridge. She hadn’t reached it before the alarm sounded. This could only be Ecryua’s doing. An effective wake-up call, but overkill nonetheless.
Upon arriving at the bridge, she slipped into the ship captain’s room to stop the alarm. “This is your Ship Commander,” she announced over the comms. “The Squadron Commandant will be speaking to you shortly. Listen closely to her words. I hereby allow those on-duty to take a break. Those without urgent tasks to attend to ought to rest for now. Those who are off duty, remain on standby. That is all.”
Ecryua and Arbohf were the only ones at the bridge, but the other starpilots soon arrived. Before long, Atosryua appeared on the main screen.
“Attention, all squadron crewmembers, this is the Commandant of Trample-Blitz Squadron 1. Allow me to thank you for your hard work. You did a great job out there. The squadron carried out the mission without losing a single ship. This is at once a miracle, and the result of your daily efforts. Now, as you’re all aware, the squadron is presently traveling a course for the planet Menderess. The original plan was to, after some breaktime, start a fresh new mission.” Atosryua paused. “And yet, I have some news to share. We have orders to return. Our plans have changed, as we are now to head toward the Kemar Portal. We’ll be joining with the Crorcaubh on the way, and after resupplying, we’ll return to the capital. Make the necessary preparations without delay. Let me tell you, I haven’t been to Lacmhacarh in ages, so if you dawdle, I will leave you behind. That is all.”
The personnel on the bridge saluted the screen. Atosryua returned the salute, and the video went out.
The address now over, Arbohf said “Is it only our squadron?”
“It can’t be,” said Yatesh. “They must be switching out the whole sub-fleet. We did do some good work.”
“But the main force of the sub-fleet is way behind us,” Arbohf murmured.
He had every right to be bewildered. Despite the gravity-braking, the speed of the construction site attack corps was still high. The allied ships would never catch up at this rate. The main force of the assault sub-fleet Bosurec comprised four assault squadrons, and while they had broken away from the field of battle, they had stuck around near the front lines. In addition, there was the matter of repairs to consider. Although Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 hadn’t taken much damage to speak of, there had to be some injured people aboard the assault ships. If it was the whole assault sub-fleet that was being ordered to return, then it would take a significant amount of time.
On the other hand, Yatesh also had a point. There was no reason to extract the Trample-Blitz Squadron alone from the Sub-Fleet. Perhaps in the past, it was conceivable they might order the raid ships to return in order to obtain information regarding their operation and steering, but they must have already gathered enough of that kind of data by now.
Lafier’s wristgear beeped. “It seems our Gunner was correct.”
A more detailed navigation schedule had now been sent. According to it, Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 was to detach from the Assault Sub-Fleet Bosurec and return to the capital alone. The return route was defended by Twin Thorns Fleet 25, so there was no cause for concern on that front. Truth be told, the other squadrons would certainly envy them. But the question remained — why, at this stage, were they being told to head back? It wasn’t as though the enemy had been expelled from this star system or destroyed. Though they were about to lose the Kemar Portal, the system’s inner planets and Kemar’s star, and the planet Akadd (which was what made this system the core of the PSSU’s munitions production), there was no way they were going to surrender without a fight. Their main forces had made a getaway to the outer planets, and they were evidently preparing for a decisive battle. Granted, if they blew up the group of factories in the Akadd area, the enemy’s war potential would drop to the point where this could be safely ignored. Yet as a rule, the Abh loved tenaciously hounding the enemy, and it appeared Command was overflowing with the sentiment that they ought to engage with the enemy to the last. In fact, the next operation, the search-and-destroy sweeping mission, was already in the works. Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 had been about to begin preparing for that mission, once this operation was over. Their orders to return had truly come out of the blue.
The thought occurred to some that maybe they were going to be put on a mission to escort an unladen supply corps back to the capital, but that too seemed not to be the case. They were to head back in single-ship space-time bubbles — which was to say, as fast as possible.
“Grinshia,” said Lafier, “we’re supposed to enter planar space posthaste. Can you ready the ship?”
“Of course, ma’am. The ship is undamaged, so there won’t be a problem.” The Inspector Supervisor’s voice was slightly stuffy.
Lafier wondered whether to apologize, but she realized that would only hurt her feelings, so she replied with a simple “I see.”
“As for fuel resupply, what sort of protocol should we follow?” asked Grinshia.
“We’re scheduled to encounter a fuel resupply planet in thirty-seven hours. In forty-two hours, we’ll encounter a supply ship to receive non-fuel supplies.”
“Understood, ma’am.” Grinshia quickly set about preparing for resupply through her console.
“Ship Commander,” said Jint. “What will become of the sick and wounded?”
Though he said “the sick and wounded,” that term included those who were neither — which, in actuality, comprised the vast majority of the crew. What was most often damaged in interstellar warfare was not the body, but the mind. The field of battle and all that related to it tended to warp people’s souls and psyches, but even putting that aside, the sea of the stars was an alien environment to Landers in particular. To them, people who could spend extended periods of time in space were the abnormal ones. If the galaxy wasn’t at war, the military would have had the luxury of choosing only the boldest men and women, as determined by a rigorous psychological examination. One example of just such a person was Grinshia herself; she had been serving for a long time. But there was a war on, and so they couldn’t afford to be so choosy when selecting applicants. Consequently, the numbers of NCCs with nervous disorders increased. If the symptoms were light enough, that fact proved no impediment to sailing as normal. But as the Star Forces learned through centuries of experiences, humans would repeat the same unthinkable mistakes over and over again, and that knowledge was reflected in the design philosophy of the ships. But sometimes, during the extreme stress situation known as battle, the behavior of those suffering from mental illness would put the ship in danger.
This operation in particular was expected to be too much to handle for NCCs without much experience. Those NCCs with less than three years’ experience in the fleet had been given a psych exam, and those found to have issues had been granted a break. Though of course, they had no place to spend that “break” besides a medic ship.
The decrease in NCC numbers brought with it a decrease in survival rates, but it would be an even dicier prospect keeping them aboard. Or so Squadron Command had deemed. For this operation, if they ever took damage, that damage would not be the survivable kind that could use NCCs around for repairs, anyway. In other words, they would either emerge unscathed, or burst like balloons, with no in-between. That was one of the reasons behind Command’s rationale.
There were also those who were sick or injured. However, those who were gravely injured enough to need submersion in tissue regeneration liquid and those too ill to get out of bed had already been taken far away on medic ships. The people aboard the medic ships orbiting Kemar were those who would heal with some rest, and they were to participate in the operation to come. To them, leaving the hospital was nothing if not good news. The entertainment planetoids near the capital made for far better convalescence than a medic ship.
“We will encounter the medic ship they’re aboard in fifty-five hours,” replied Lafier, looking at the route map.
“Ship Commander, I would like to begin preparing to accommodate the sick and wounded now while I have the chance. May I be granted permission to do so?”
“Of course,” she said, despite thinking he was being quite hasty.
“In that case, I’ll take my leave.” Jint saluted and left the bridge.
I suppose I shall take a breather, too, thought Lafier. She ordered the crew to return to their duties, and entrusted the rest to Ecryua once again.