Till the Conflict Is Over Page 11
Maybe I passed out again. I don’t know. But I roused when someone unlatched my helmet and pulled it off. I opened my eyes to see Cmdr Tatum, with Harris standing right behind him, running his hand through his hair. “You made it,” I said.
“So did you,” Harris said. “Mostly.”
“How bad?”
Tatum shook his head. “Don’t worry about it right now. You’re in the shuttle, you’re stable, and you are one lucky son-of-a-bitch.”
“Fox wasn’t,” I said, and I closed my eyes again.
Tatum leaned close. “This is not your fault. Not a shred of it, do you hear me?”
“They attacked because of me.”
“And if not us, then Port Washington,” he said. “And who knows what else. Did they ask for it?”
“Not the same.”
“The hell it isn’t.”
I felt him move away, and I just lay there and cried, never opening my eyes.
After a time, I heard Harris. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For saving me and Doobie.”
I kind of hunched against his words, still seeing Fox smeared against the bulkhead. I think he sensed some of that, because he sighed, and said, “Someone was going to die up there.”
I wanted to shake my head, but it still hurt too much. “It should have been me.”
“If you’re not careful, it still will be.” He didn’t say anything for a long time, and I thought he had left, but then I heard him say, “You did something I don’t know if I would have done if the roles were reversed.”
“Who knows?” I said. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.”
I kept my eyes closed, and I don’t know if he stayed or left. A couple of people checked on me, and I got a shot of something that put me out. But it didn’t stop the nightmares.
***
Help arrived ten days later. The Sioux Falls first, and the Denton a few days after. Both warships, but the Denton at least was a newer class, and had slightly better amenities. They took me there along with the other wounded, which was most everyone still alive, and we headed to Port Washington, with its expansive medical facilities.
Even so, we lost six more guys in the transit. Which meant that out of a crew of three hundred, forty-two survived. From my work center it was me and Dillon, who eventually recovered from his shock, though he never really got back to normal. He was the second suicide from the survivors. Doobie was the first.
My injuries ended up being nowhere near as bad as I feared. Four broken ribs, a smashed hand, and compound fractures in both legs. I hadn’t been able to feel my legs due to nerve blockers my suit had injected me with. Oh yeah, I had a concussion, too. Most of us did.
I spent two months looking like a cross between a mummy and a pincushion, and six months after that getting everything strong again. And Harris, damn him, visited me every day. Never said much, but made me smile when he did, even if I didn’t want to. He had his own rehab, too. Idiot had pulled us out with a fractured pelvis and a shattered forearm. He said between my hand and his forearm, we made a pretty good jigsaw puzzle.
So once again, I survived.
But when it came time to hand out medals, I refused mine. Some of the brass found this so scandalous, that I got another personal visit from Admiral Duffy. We met in a lounge near the rehab center, a nice place usually reserved for visiting family. I had known he was coming, steeled myself to refuse any incentive he may wanted to offer, but the bastard had a trump card: he brought Meyers with him.
Man, that almost broke me right there and then, but as soon as I saw him, I was out of my seat and across the room, hugging him tight. It only occurred to me later how much that probably scared the crap out of him, but to his credit, he just hugged me back. I finally let him go, and Admiral Duffy shook my hand, then had us all sit down.
“I don’t want a medal,” I said before he could say anything.
“Roger that,” he said.
I looked at him sideways. “I thought you came to convince me to accept one.”
“Wouldn't dream of it,” he said. “With the hell you’ve been through? You don’t need more reminders.”
“So what then?”
“Well, first of all, my yeoman here has been very concerned about you, and it gave me a reason to let him get a good look at you.”
I looked at Meyers. “And?”
He smiled, ever so slightly. “I’m glad you’re physically whole.”
“But you’re worried about mentally.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Do you think I shouldn’t be?”
“I’ve been going to the survivor’s groups regularly. There are several here. Hell, our crew dominate a couple of them.”
“And?”
I shook my head, realizing how talkative he made Harris seem. “I’m muddling through.”
The Admiral cleared his throat. “I also came to inform you that you have been promoted to Fire Controlman First Class, and that is something you cannot change or protest.”
I shut my mouth against doing just that. After a sufficiently harsh glare, I said, “Fine.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “Some other good news is that I got you what is essentially shore duty.”
“Essentially?” I said.
“It’s on Port Farragut. A bit forward based, but I thought you might be interested.”
I did lose it then. I had been talking to Katy all though my recovery, but she wanted to finish her enlistment and come to where ever I was. Which was going to take two more years. This meant that we would be together—
“Three months to report there,” the Admiral said. “That’s enough time to finish up here, and get you out to the asteroid belt.”
I hugged the Admiral. I’m sure it broke every protocol and tradition ever conceived by the Navy, and I didn’t care. To his credit, neither did he. He just patted me on the back like a father might his son, and chuckled at my tears and continuous expressions of gratitude. “I thought it would be a good station for you.”
I finally got myself under control and sat back down. “Why, sir? Why are you doing this for me?”
He smiled, a bit sadly. “Your service is still needed. We are short staffed everywhere, and I cannot release you from duty. So I figured this was the next best thing. The conflict is not yet over, but you deserve to be as happy as you can.”
Unthinking, I said, “We are all enlisted til the conflict is o’er. Happy are we.”
“Petty Officer Otewa’s favorite hymn,” Meyers said, and the Admiral’s look of confusion gave way to an understanding nod.
“Despite the losses, you have still saved thousands. Maybe more.” He stood and saluted me. Meyers joined him, and they refused to drop it until I stood and returned the salute.
It didn’t fix everything. Nothing could, not really. But it gave me hope, and a reason to keep going. So I did. After all, I had a woman waiting for me, and what more can a sailor ask for?
Other books by Michael A. Hooten, available from Amazon.com:
Enlisted:
Book 1: We Are All Enlisted
Cricket’s Song
Book 1: The Cricket Learns to Sing
Book2: A Cricket at Court
Book 3: The Cricket That Roared
A Bard Without a Star
Book 1: Wizard’s Heir
Book 2: The Two Tanists
Book 3: The Bardic Academy
Book 4:The Curses of Arianrhod
Book 5: The Raven's Children
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