by James Rosone
“This is good, Miles,” said Nina excitedly. “I think we’re going to come out ahead on this deal. Bringing these other planets into the fold of the Republic is not only going to make us stronger—it’s going to greatly expand our ability to become more self-sufficient in the future.”
She’d been pushing privately for this mission since Admiral Hunt had first proposed it. Neither of them had had much luck. Up to this point, the Altairians had been using the Republic to assist the Primords in their battles to retake some of their lost territories, something she wasn’t happy about, and she knew Hunt wasn’t either.
The younger Hunt then interrupted their discussion. “Just wanted to remind you both, we’re supposed to have dinner with Pandolly in thirty minutes. If you want to freshen up or anything, now would be the time,” said Ethan.
They broke up their conversation and got ready for dinner.
As Chapman walked into her room, she made a mental note to ask Pandolly a bit more about the complexities of the situation within the alliance. She was curious to know why they were turning down a viable plan to bring an end to the war.
Chapter Fourteen
New Orders
RNS Midway
Medbay
Sergeant Paul “Pauli” Smith woke up to a rhythmic beeping noise. The sound was unmistakable. It was the same beeping he’d first heard on the RNS Comfort the last time he’d been wounded.
As Pauli groggily opened his eyes, his vision slowly came into focus. Steadily, his mind broke through the fog. He lifted his head up a bit and got his first glance of his surroundings. “This isn’t the Comfort or the Tripoli,” he remarked aloud.
“Ah, you’re awake, soldier. How are you feeling?” asked a female nurse as she attended to a monitor next to his bed.
“Um, where am I?” asked Pauli.
The woman, who was maybe in her midtwenties, smiled warmly at him. “You’re on the RNS Midway, luv. You were brought here five days ago,” she explained, her Australian accent and those brown puppy dog eyes making his heart go pitter-patter.
Damn…she’s gorgeous. I need to get wounded more often, he thought as his mind tried to push through the brain fog he was still feeling.
“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered. “How long have I been here? I thought you said five days ago, but I think I was distracted by that beautiful smile of yours.”
She tilted her head slightly and laughed. “Well, I see the drugs haven’t dulled your ability to flirt,” she replied. “I suppose that’s a good sign for your recovery, Sergeant. But, yes, that’s right. You’ve been here for five days. We’ve had you in a medically induced coma so the nanites could do their thing and get you fixed up.”
A doctor walked up to his bed and grabbed a tablet at the foot of the bed. The doctor appeared to be in his fifties or sixties, maybe older—one could never really tell a person’s age since the introduction of antiaging nanites into the human body.
“Hello, Sergeant Smith. I’m Dr. John, one of the medical doctors on the Midway. I understand your friends call you Pauli, so I’m going to call you by that name as well if you don’t mind. We try not to be as formal on the Midway as some other ships are, being Special Forces and all,” the doctor said with a wink and a smile.
Something about the man gave Pauli a pleasant feeling. Maybe it was his casual demeanor.
“We’re actually pretty laid-back about ranks in the RA as well,” Pauli replied. “But what happened to me? Why was I put into a medical coma for five days, and why am I on the Midway instead of the Tripoli or one of the medical ships?”
The doctor walked around the foot of the bed and took a seat next to Pauli. The nurse left at this point to go check on another patient.
The doctor smiled as he saw Pauli’s eyes follow the Australian nurse as she left. “She’ll be back to check on you hourly, so don’t worry.”
Pauli blushed but didn’t say anything.
“The drugs we used to keep you in a coma should fully wear off over the next hour. You probably don’t remember this, but the two of us actually had a good conversation earlier this morning. I’ll do my best to re-explain it to you.”
Pauli was aware that he had that dazed, confused look on his face, confirming the doctor’s initial assessment that Pauli had no clue they’d previously talked.
“Your battalion was supporting 1st Battalion, 4th Special Forces Group, seizing that Zodark station over the planet Rass. You, along with eighty-two other soldiers from your battalion, were brought aboard the Midway when your ship, the Tripoli, took some serious damage during the battle. They were in no shape to treat more wounded, so everyone was brought here.”
“As to your injuries—you sustained fourteen broken ribs, a contusion on your left lung, a broken collarbone, a broken femur, a traumatic brain injury, and a broken cheekbone. You had a lot of internal bleeding and swelling in your brain, so it was important for us to keep you in a coma to allow your brain and the rest of your body the time it needed to heal. As a matter of fact, you were clinically dead for a period of time on the medical transport bringing you to the ship. One of the medics worked on bringing you back and managed to keep you alive for thirty-six minutes until they were able to get you to the medbay.”
The doctor paused for a moment as he checked something on the digital medical record. “Pauli, you were in bad shape when you got here. Under most circumstances, you should have died and been unrecoverable. Fortunately, being a Special Forces’ ship, we have an advanced medical bay, just like the Comfort and Mercy. We were able to handle your injuries. Now that you are awake, we still need to keep you here for a few more days to let the nanites continue to repair your body.”
Pauli stared at the doctor for a moment as he took in the information. He had no idea he’d been that badly hurt. Last time he’d been injured, he’d only been knocked out for a day—not the better part of a week.
“Doc, how are the rest of my soldiers?” Pauli asked. “I was in charge of two squads of RA soldiers during the battle. Is it possible to know how many of them made it and if any of them are here with me?”
“I thought you might ask that once the drugs wore off, so I looked into it.” The doctor’s demeanor changed a bit. “I’m sorry to report only five of your soldiers made it. The others died during the battle.”
Pauli felt numb as the words hit him. This was his first squad as a sergeant—his first time being in charge of soldiers—and they’d nearly been wiped out.
“There was another squad leader with me, Sergeant Yogi Sanders. Did he make it?”
Dr. John typed something on his tablet then nodded. “He did. He wasn’t in as bad a shape as you, but he’s still in the medbay. At least for another day.”
Pauli let a slight sigh of relief escape. He was comforted to hear his friend had made it. He and Yogi had been friends since basic training. They’d been together through five years of war, and Yogi was like a brother to him. Pauli had lost a lot of friends throughout the years; despite that, he and Yogi had always seemed to make it through whatever the war had thrown at them.
The doctor stood up. “OK, Pauli, I have a few more patients I need to visit. If you need anything, let one of the nurses know.”
When Dr. John left, Pauli lay there in the bed, trying to figure out what he should do next. As the drugs continued to wear off, the memories of what had transpired flooded his mind. He also felt physically tired as his body was continuing to repair itself. While he knew he should rest, Pauli also knew he needed to take time to write some letters to the families of his fallen soldiers. Writing a letter to someone’s next of kin was one of the toughest tasks he’d ever had to do, but as the soldiers’ squad leader and sergeant, he felt he had to say something to the families. They deserved to hear how their loved ones had died from those who were with them when it had happened, not in some generic letter from the War Department. No one deserved an impersonal form letter like that.
Pauli asked the Australian nurse if she could
bring him a tablet. Once she had, the next nine hours went by in a blur. One by one, he wrote a personal letter to each of his soldiers’ next of kin:
Dear Mr. & Mrs. Locke,
By now you have probably received a letter from the War Department, letting you know your daughter died from wounds sustained in combat. I was with your daughter when she died; I was her squad leader, her sergeant. Our squad was tasked with supporting a Special Forces mission to capture a Zodark star base over the planet Rass. This was an incredibly tough and dangerous mission, which is why it was given to your daughter’s unit, the 1st Orbital Assault Battalion.
Your daughter fought with bravery and distinction when she died. She led her squad in an assault against a superior Zodark and Orbot force. She never hesitated in the face of danger. She led her squad fearlessly all the way until she was killed. When she was killed, it was quick and painless. I won’t provide details, but what I can tell you is she didn’t suffer. She died fighting with her friends and comrades. She died as a member of the greatest battalion in the army, fighting for a cause she truly believed in. I know there are no words or acts that will bring her back to you. But know she was loved by her brothers and sisters; she didn’t die alone and she didn’t suffer.
I’m putting her in for a valor award. I don’t know if it’ll be approved, but I’ll do my best to see that it is. She was a real hero.
Sincerely,
Sergeant Paul “Pauli” Sanders
When he’d finished writing the letters for the casualties from the last battle, Pauli let out an exhausted sigh. God, I hope I don’t have to write many more of those, he thought. I don’t know how officers do it.
After reading up on some of the after-action reports or AARs of the battle written by his surviving soldiers and some of the Deltas, Pauli’s blurry recollection of the battle came clearly into focus. This would allow him to complete his next task, which was to write up individual awards for the soldiers in his squad and the others that had been part of their assault force.
As an NCO, Pauli knew it was important to recognize his people for their acts of bravery. This included those who had died. He decided to recommend that everyone in the battle with the Zodark and Orbot soldiers be awarded a Bronze Star with a valor device. He also recommended two of his soldiers for the Silver Star—they had not only fought an overwhelming number of Zodark soldiers and survived, they’d fought the equivalent of two squads’ worth of Orbots.
“You holdin’ up all right, Sergeant?” asked a Delta soldier as he approached Pauli’s bed. From the captain bars and the name Royce on the nametape, Pauli realized he was the commander of the operation his battalion had been supporting.
“I think I’m better now, sir,” answered Pauli as he tried to sit a little taller in his bed. “I guess I was a little banged up when I first got here.”
“I’m glad the doctors are taking good care of you. I wanted to stop by and say I thought you and your squad did a hell of a job,” Captain Royce said. “We’d never fought one of those Quadbots before. We had no idea how to fight them or what to expect. Your battle gained us some highly valuable intelligence.”
“We were just doing our jobs. I only wish more of my soldiers had survived,” Pauli said, sounding a bit defeated.
Captain Royce stepped a little closer. “It’s tough losing soldiers, and I can tell you with certainty, it won’t get any easier the more it happens.”
With respect and admiration for the captain, an enhanced augmented super-soldier, Pauli asked, “As a leader, how do you handle the losses and still hold it together mentally?”
Captain Royce scanned the room for a second and spotted the rolling chair the doc had used earlier. He pulled it over and took a seat next to Pauli. “I reviewed your service record before I came to talk with you. You’ve been in the Army now for almost six years. You’ve seen combat on New Eden, Intus, and now Rass. During each battle, you were awarded a valor medal. You know why?”
Pauli felt kind of stupid at that moment and only shook his head. He had no idea why he’d been given one medal over another. In his eyes, he was just doing his job.
“In each battle, Sergeant Smith, you went above and beyond. It’s going above and beyond that will allow you to handle these kinds of losses,” Royce explained. “You aren’t one of those soldiers or draftees that tries to shirk your duties or do just enough to get by. In each situation, you chose to rise above the others around you to either lead them or take charge of the situation. The soldiers who can’t handle the losses are the ones who ‘should’ve’ all over themselves, when in reality they need to accept that they can only control the things they can control and need to let go of the things they cannot.”
“Is that a Delta motto by chance?” asked Pauli with a chuckle. “When our two units served together on New Eden, I met a Delta soldier who told me the same thing. It’s actually something that’s helped me get through a lot of tough situations.”
Captain Royce leaned back and laughed. “No, it’s not an official motto or anything, but it is a very common phrase said in our ranks. When I was reviewing your service jacket, I also saw that you had reenlisted and signed up for Delta school.”
Pauli nodded. “I did. I figure if I’m going to stay in the military, then I’d like to join Special Forces.”
The captain rubbed his chin briefly as he surveyed Pauli. “You know it’s a tough and very long school, right?”
“It can’t be any tougher than three planetary invasions or battling thirty-plus Orbots,” snickered Pauli.
Royce grunted. “Special Forces is more about conditioning the mind to overcome what the body doesn’t believe it can do. The training is tough for those who don’t have the mental discipline to do that. I think you’d probably excel at it.
“Oh, by the way, your company CO put you in for a second Silver Star and Purple Heart. I wanted to let you know our battalion pushed for it to be upgraded to the Distinguished Service Cross. Your switching from blasters to magrails to fire on the Orbots was a game changer for us. If you hadn’t figured that out when you did, we wouldn’t have known to do that right away and could have lost a lot more people during that battle. You saved a lot of lives with that kind of thinking on your feet.”
Pauli felt his cheeks reddening a bit at the compliment.
“Sergeant, I actually have a question for you, and I want an honest answer,” said Captain Royce. “Back before the formation of the Republic, American Special Forces had many different types of groups. Each one performed specific roles and tasks to support the overall military. You had Navy SEALs, Army Green Berets, Army Rangers, Marine Raider battalions, and Air Force Tactical Air Control Party. When the Republic formed out of the ashes of the last Great War, they combined most of these units to form the Deltas.”
“Mm-hmm,” said Pauli, wondering what the question was.
“With this new war against both the Zodarks and the Orbots, we Deltas are finding ourselves needing to rely on a lot more RA support than we ever have in the past. There is some talk amongst the SF community about bringing back another SF unit to help augment us Deltas.”
Pauli perked up at this idea. “I hadn’t heard that, but it sounds like a good plan.”
“The 1st OAB has assisted 4th Special Forces Group now during two military campaigns. There’s some talk about pulling your brigade out of the line and retraining the entire group as Rangers, making you guys a direct-action unit to help support our operations. As someone who isn’t Special Forces and spent most of your time in the regular Army, what are your initial thoughts on something like that?”
Pauli mulled the idea over. “I’m not sure. What specifically would you want them doing that we RA guys can’t already do?”
“That’s a fair question. Honestly, not much. We need a support unit that can help us hold objectives or take them when necessary, while we perform more specialized missions. I think if they formed a special unit like this, they’d give you the same neurolink implants
we have and probably some of the physical enhancements. A big change would probably be the armor you’d be issued—Special Forces is upgrading to a new type of armor that’s able to stand up to Zodark blasters better than our current stuff. This unit would also get a lot more training on seizing objectives and performing what we call blitzing attacks—pretty much what you saw happen when Sergeant Riceman’s squad charged into the room right before you passed out,” explained Royce.
“I think it sounds intriguing,” said Pauli. “It also sounds like we probably need this kind of unit because, as you said, the current Special Forces program takes roughly three years to complete. If you can train an augmented force in less time, then the Deltas could return to their more specialized roles and not have to be constantly used as shock troops.”
Captain Royce smiled. “If you stay in the Army, Sergeant Smith, I think you’ll go far with smarts like that. So let me pose another question to you—if your battalion and brigade is ultimately selected for this new role, would you want to stay with them? Or would you want to fall into this new role as a Ranger or Raider or whatever they end up calling them?”
“I think if my battalion became a part of Special Forces, then I’d probably stay with them and be a part of molding a new Special Forces battalion,” Pauli replied without hesitation.
Captain Royce smiled at the quick reply. “I think we’re going to see a lot more of each other, Sergeant. Continue to rest up and get well. We have a lot of work ahead of us in the coming weeks and months.”
Chapter Fifteen
Grand Army of the Republic
New Eden
Third Army
General Ross McGinnis took in a deep breath as he stepped off the shuttlecraft. It had been a long four-month trip back to New Eden. Being cooped up on a ship for long periods had a way of making a person feel claustrophobic.
