The Last War

by Clark Graham

  The commander sat down heavily in his chair. “I can’t get fighters. Our forces are busy in other sectors. They are up to their armpits in hot spots. We are the backwater of the galaxy. They don’t seem to care about us.”

  Eisler knew the situation was bleak. The commander was out of his league and he was the highest-ranking man with actual military experience on the base.

  “We will get through this, Sir,” he said, trying to convince himself, also.

  Chapter 43

  Commander Jopsen hit the button on his desk to page Lieutenant Callis. “Please escort Ensign Eisler to his quarters.”

  Eisler could hear name here respond. “Sir, but, Sir, Yes sir.” It was like he wanted to point out something but changed his mind.

  When the Lieutenant arrived, he was smartly attired in the dress uniform of the Imperial Navy. He had on blue with white lapels and gold buttons. It looked out of place on a space station that could be attacked at any moment. The Commander didn’t say anything, but Eisler shook his head and wondering what type of an outfit he had landed in.

  “Follow me Ensign,” Callis said. He led him through long corridors and down lifts to a nearly barren deck. “Here you are.”

  They stopped next to four empty columns with two pallets of wall panels and boxes that had a bed, dresser, nightstand, and toilet.

  “We have been so busy plugging holes from all the attacks that we haven’t finished the interior yet. I would start with the wall panels.”

  Eisler was in utter shock. He stood there and watched the Lieutenant walk away. He had just flown for five hours and been awake the past seventeen. He was hoping to sleep on the transport that was going to take him back to the base with the other pilots. This was not going well at all.

  Sighing, he unboxed the bed and started putting it together. After a few minutes another ensign walked up to him. “You must be our new skipper. I’m Jonson. Do you need a hand?”

  Eisler was completely taken back by the lack of military discipline on the base. No salute, no calling him sir or addressing him by his rank. He bit his tongue because he wanted the help and didn’t know the protocol on the base. “Ensign Eisler, glad to meet you. Some help would be great.”

  The ensign pulled a communicator out of his pocket. “Smitty, bring the boys up, the new skipper needs his room built.”

  “Got it.”

  Soon there were fifteen men assembling his quarters. The wall panels went up, the door was installed, the toilet bolted down to the disposal system. While they were assembling the furniture Eilser turned to Jonson, “So, how much time do you have in Roc’fis?”

  Jonson just laughed. “We are all shuttle pilots, sent up here to take instruments into the nebula. None of us have been in a Roc’fi, or even a regular fighter.”

  Eilser’s jaw dropped. “No high-speed turns, no gunnery practice?”

  Jonson shook his head. “No, it’s all low-speed stuff. When we were told that we would be piloting Roc’fi we all tried to transfer out. The commander lined us up and yelled at us for two hours. It was unpleasant.”

  “A shuttle pilot isn’t a fighter pilot, and a fighter pilot isn’t a roc’fi pilot. They’re completely different approaches. I need to talk to the commander. This won’t do at all.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, unless you want to get yelled at for two hours.”

  Eisler’s chest constricted and he felt as though he might have a heart attack. When he realized that it would get him out of this mess, he wanted to have a heart attack. It didn’t happen, however. Not only was he the ranking military man on the base, he was the only military man on the base.

  Smitty, another of the shuttle pilots, came in with a jug of liquid and some cups. All of the other men were smiling and cheering, so Eisler hoped it was alcoholic at least.

  “Local brew, it takes a scientist to find the right formula for rotgut,” Jonson told him.

  They gave the ensign a cup of it and he wolfed it down. Everyone in the room gasped. Smitty called out, “No, not all at once.”

  It was too late. The stuff burned all of the way down and hit like a small atom bomb when in Eilser’s stomach. His eyes went big and round and he turned white as a ghost, then beet red. “Wow,” he said, but it wasn’t over yet. His eyes watered and beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. “Wow,” this time his voice was hoarse.

  “Sip it,” Jonson urged.

  Eisler nodded in agreement. His tears were dripping off his chin, and his eyes were bloodshot. He still held his cup up for a second round.

  After three hours of drinking, the crowd had thinned. Those who could still stand had staggered down the corridor. The others lay in heaps on the floor. The jug and a lot of empty cups were laying around. Eisler was half on and half off the bed, having made it no farther.

  The alarm bells blared and he grabbed his head and let out a scream. The men still in his room were getting to their feet. He looked at his watch. It was seven hours later. He had not moved an inch all night.

  “Red alert, battle stations, this is not a drill,” sounded over the loudspeaker.

  His head was thundering and his mouth felt as dry as a sand dune. He managed to get up. “Where do I go?” he asked one of the men.

  “Follow us, I guess.” So he trudged after them. They led him up to the observation deck.

  The commander appeared a few minutes later. He gave the Ensign a glance and said, “You’ve been into Smitty’s brew, I see.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  To his surprise, the commander just smiled. On any other base he would have been put on report. The monitors blinked to life. The enemy ships were flying around the base, but not attacking.

  “What are they doing?” the commander asked, scratching his head.

  “They monitored our movements. They know we have taken some ships in and they want to see what they’re up against. They want us to come out and play.”

  The commander still looked confused. “Why would they do that?”

  “So, they can develop a strategy to defeat us. If they don’t know what they are up against it makes it that much harder.”

  Soon the ships left without firing a shot. The commander just shook his head. “Stand down red alert.” He then turned to Eisler. “The only way to get rid of the headache is to sleep it off. Get some breakfast and then go back to bed.” He sounded like he spoke from experience.

  “Yes, Sir.” Eisler staggered towards the mess hall.

  Chapter 44

  Five hours later, Eisler woke up again. His head felt much better, but his mouth was still dry. He got up and got a drink of water. When he stepped out of his room, he saw the men working on the corridor. They were installing the rest of the walls. The Lieutenant was leading the group.

  “Good morning, Ensign, I hope you slept well.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I thought you might be lonely so I am finishing up this floor and putting all of the pilots up here.”

  “That’s a very good idea, Sir.”

  The Lieutenant was in his dress blues again. It looked very out of place compared to the workmen’s jumpsuits and the captain’s khakis. Eisler just smiled and kept going. When he made his way down to the hanger deck, he looked at the Drottning roc’fi’s. Nothing had been done with them. They were still sitting in the same spot they had been when they arrived.

  “Who’s in charge here?” he demanded from a passing workman.

  “Sergeant Donaldson,” the man replied and continued walking.

  “Go get him.”

  “Sorry, I’m busy with other stuff.”

  “Now!”

  The man’s eyes widened in surprise. “Um, okay I guess.” The man walked off. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry. Probably complained about the demanding ensign.

  A sergeant walked up like he was on a Sunday stroll. “Donaldson here.”

  Eisler had as much as he could take. “From now on you will salute your superior officers and address them a
s sir, do you understand?”

  “But the commander doesn’t seem to…”

  “Do you understand, or do you want to become a private again?”

  “Um, yes, I understand.”

  “Yes, Sir, I understand, say that, and don’t forget to salute.”

  The man gave a limp salute. “Yes, Sir, I understand.”

  The other men in the hanger deck were all staring at this point.

  “Why haven’t these ships been serviced?”

  The sergeant shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know how.” The Ensign glared at him so he said, “Um, Sir, I mean. I don’t know how, Sir.”

  “There is an instruction manual in the database. Look it up and get it done.”

  “Yes, ah, Sir.”

  As the Ensign walked off, the Sergeant gave him another weak salute.

  Eisler made his way to the commander’s office. The door was open and when Jopsen noticed him, he signaled him to come in.

  “What can I do for you, Ensign?”

  “Permission to speak freely, Sir.”

  “Yes, of course, always.”

  “Sir, the military discipline at this base is, well, nonexistent. It’s not that I am perfect at it, Sir. One glance at my record would confirm that, but we are in a war zone here.”

  The commander looked at him for a second, then replied, “That’s my fault. We were just a bunch of scientists so I didn’t require it.”

  “Sir, you are no longer a bunch of scientists. You have a base that is under siege by an alien force who could attempt an invasion at any time. We could be engaged in hand-to-hand combat soon. I just dressed down one of your sergeants. I hope I haven’t overstepped, Sir.”

  “You’re right, it’s far too lax for the circumstances. Oh, while I have you here. We have fifty Marines on the way. That’s all they could spare. I need you to take your roc’fi’s and escort them in.”

  “When are they expected, Sir.”

  “In a couple of days.”

  “Yes, Sir, will do, Sir.” The ensign saluted and then turned to march out.

  “Hang on a second,” Jopsen said. “I’m giving you a field promotion to Lieutenant JG. It will have to be ratified by Emor before it becomes official. I’ve sent in the request. Meanwhile, these are yours.” He handed Eisler Lieutenant bars.

  Eisler thanked him profusely, then headed down to the hangar deck. It wasn’t that he was a strict military man. Nothing was further from the truth. It was the circumstances that they were in. He needed to know these men would obey orders without hesitancy. If they didn’t do that during an attack, it would be disastrous. He was glad for the Marines. True soldiers. These scientists might not learn how to fight. He only wished he had the right type of pilots.

  When he arrived back at the hangar deck, Eisler was glad to see that two of the Drottnings were up on lifts being worked on. He watched as the men would check the monitor, and then walked over to the roc’fi and fiddle with it, then check the monitor again. He shook his head. This isn’t going to work. I’m going to get killed in an unknown starbase next to a bunch of scientists. All of the girls I left behind will wonder what happened to that dashing young man.

  Out of exasperation, he rolled up his sleeves and went down there. The pilots were trained in emergency repairs and servicing. The Air Corps always wanted their ships back. The men on deck saluted when he arrived. At least they remembered that.

  “Gather round this ship men. There are fifteen points of servicing to get this ship flight ready. The first thing to do is check the oil levels at all of the nodes.” Eisler pointed those out. “Then you take a programmed scanner and check for stress to the airframe. Have one of you downloaded the information for a Drottning yet?”

  “I did, Sir.” Donaldson handed him a scanner.

  “Okay, you plug the scanner in here and that will tell us if there are any faults.” When Eisler turned on the hand-held device, the screen on it showed the outline of the airframe in green lines.

  “When you have red lines, that means the airframe has been compromised in that spot and needs to be repaired. The next, and the last thing, you need to do is fill up the rocket fuel level. Where is your fuel cart at?”

  Donaldson stiffened, “It’s over by the wall, Sir, but it’s empty and so are our storage tanks. Command hasn’t sent us any rocket fuel yet, Sir.”

  Eisler was dumbfounded. He didn’t even know what to say to that. After a long pause he shook his head and said, “How about spare parts. Do we have any of those?”

  “No, sir,” the sergeant shrugged.

  “Are we going to get any?”

  “We ordered it long before your arrival. The closest supply depot isn’t in a hurry to send us anything because we are a science station and low on the priority list.”

  “Okay, fine. What we do is, get all of the fuel out of ships three, four, and five. Put it in ships one and two. We set ship five, the one with the bad hose, aside and cannibalize it for spare parts to keep the other ones running. I need to contact that supply depot.”

  The sergeant smiled. “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter 45

  The flashing of red lights and the warning sirens woke Eisler from a deep sleep. It took him a few seconds to get his bearings, but when he did, he grabbed his uniform and threw it on. As he rushed out the door two of his pilots were out in the hall running past him.

  “Where’s my battle station?” Eisler asked.

  “Command post, Sir,” the ensign yelled back.

  Eisler ran up the ten stories of stairs instead of taking the lift as per protocol. There were pinging sounds as the enemy strafed the plating of the station. Damage control parties ran to and fro plugging holes.

  He was out of breath when he arrived. Both the lieutenant and the commander were already there.

  “We got one,” the commander said with excitement in his voice.

  The Lieutenant stood there, trying to get his breath back, looking at the monitor of the frying pan shaped craft. It was cut nearly in half by the blast, but the cockpit was intact and he could see the pilot moving around in it. He grabbed the intercom and called up the gunners. “Do not let anyone rescue that pilot. If any of the enemy craft slows down to retrieve him, blast away. Ignore all of the other fighters.”

  “Yes, Sir,” the gunner replied.

  Eisler wondered if he were too late as one of the ships was already attempting a rescue. The defensive gun swung around just in time. They had a slow-moving target and blasted it into pieces. This dissuaded all of the other fighters from making a similar attempt.

  As quick as it started, the attack was over. The enemy broke off and headed back to base.

  “Outta gas,” Eisler commented to no one in particular. Then he grabbed the intercom again. “Send a shuttle to pick up that pilot. I want three armed men in the back of the shuttle, too.”

  In his excitement, Eisler had forgotten that the Lieutenant and the commander were standing there. The two of them should have been giving the commands instead of him. Eisler was hoping the commander wasn’t going to be angry at the lack of respect for his authority.

  “Good show, Lieutenant,” the commander said. Then into the intercom, “Stand down red alert.”

  The excitement over, the Lieutenant and the commander left the command post and made their way back to their offices. Eisler watched as the shuttle left the station.

  It wasn’t my idea of fun, Ensign Jonson thought as the shuttle left the space dock. He could see polka dots on the station where the enemy fire had hit. A couple of them had light streaming out, showing the blasts had pierced the skin of the starbase. The rest were just partial holes marring the surface. Sergeant Donaldson and two of his men had blasters at their hips and had space suits on with lanyards clipped onto the sidewalls.

  When the shuttle arrived at the damaged ship, the back of the shuttle was depressurized. The sergeant and his two men floated up in the air as the ship lost artificial gravity. They left the shuttle and
locked some cables onto the disabled fighter then pulled it into the shuttle and followed it back in. When everything was stowed and the door closed, Jonsson repressurized the shuttle and headed back to the station. The sergeant and his men held their guns pointed at the flight deck bubble and the pilot inside, but the man, if that’s what he was, wasn’t moving.

  They towed the craft back to the spaceport where the mechanics had armed themselves. When they docked, some of them stood guard while the other ones pried the cockpit open and retrieved the pilot.

  He was humanoid, much like the rest of them. Seeing that he was wounded with blood coming from his chest, they called in the medic.

  The starbase didn’t yet have the medical facility that it was supposed to. It hadn’t been far enough along in the build process. Without a doctor, there was no hurry to finish the sickbay. The base only had a triage center with four beds and very few medical supplies.

  The alien pilot was put on one of the beds where ‘Doc,’ the medic looked over him. He cleaned the wound, checked to see if there was anything obvious sticking out of him and then stitched the man up.

  Doc scratched his head. He would have liked a medical scanner to see if there were any foreign items in the man’s chest, but he didn’t have that technology yet. As a precaution, he strapped the pilot down. He doubted it was needed from all the bleeding, the alien was probably very weak.

  Eisler knocked on the door to the commander’s office. He was dreading this encounter. He had way overstepped his authority and he deserved a dressing down.

  “Come.” Came the commander’s voice.

  The Lieutenant stood at attention and gave a stiff salute.

  The commander looked him over and said, “Good job today. I wouldn’t have known what to do and you took charge. I appreciate that.”