by Ava D. Dohn
* * *
It was well past nightfall by the time Chasileah and Jonathan reached the rear command center. A wild battle was raging at the front by this time, with both sides suffering heavy losses. The major personally sought out the sergeant’s command officer to report the sad news. After wiring General Tizrela ‘mission accomplished’, there was little to do but wait for the shuttle that was to return them to the Starlight.
When the shuttle didn’t arrive at its scheduled time, Chasileah decided to leave the command center and seek out a space terminal. The two hopped an empty munitions truck headed for one some distance to the east behind a ridge of low hills. They watched the night sky as the lorry bounced and swayed, avoiding bomb craters and fallen trees. Jonathan was mesmerized by the constant fireworks off to the east. It was incomprehensible for him to accept there was a great battle going on. He shook his head in wonder.
A squadron of heavies from the air wing came roaring in overhead, just clearing the treetops. Their deafening noise hurt Jonathan’s ears, so he covered them until they passed. There were so many things about this war he didn’t understand. He turned to ask Chasileah a question and saw her staring into the night sky. He leaned back to do the same. It was cool and clear. Jonathan could see thousands of stars. And then he saw what looked like a falling star. Then he saw another. He sighed, “With such beauty above us, it’s hard to believe a battle is being fought so near.”
“Beauty?! What beauty?!” Chasileah angrily snapped.
Jonathan was shocked. “Why…why…all the stars. They’re so pretty. And the comets shooting this way and that. It’s so beautiful.”
Chasileah started with an acrid retort, but stopped up short. She thought about Jonathan’s lack of knowledge of modern warfare and apologized, then pointed toward the heavens and began to explain, “Those aren’t comets, my friend. Those are ships - burning ships falling through the atmosphere.”
“No!!” Jonathan was beside himself with confusion. “That’s not possible!”
Chasileah reassured him it certainly was. She attempted to explain commonly understood laws of physics for her people in a way Jonathan could grasp. The teachings of Aristotle were the foundation of science when he was being educated. Still, the major felt she helped him a little. At least he was willing to accept that those comets were really ships.
Jonathan woke to the lurching stop of the lorry. How long he had slept was unclear, but blackness still ruled the hour. Chasileah was up and over the side-rack before the machine’s engine died. Jonathan watched her talk with the driver then hurry off toward one of the terminal buildings dimly silhouetted against the night. He crawled out of the back, also thanked the driver and followed in her direction.
Two guards barred the door of the building. It took some convincing on Jonathan’s part before they allowed him in. Once inside, things were little better. It was a beehive of activity. To Jonathan’s untrained eye, everything appeared to be a mass of confusion. No one could provide him any information and, once again, armed guards were stationed at several of the entrances leading to other various rooms.
After jostling his way through the crowd, Jonathan finally found Chasileah. She was standing near a communications officer, in deep conversation. He wiggled up beside her just as the officer was explaining the current situation.
Still half listening in his headset, the man was telling Chasileah the latest news. “The first wave hit us about six hours ago. No one is sure where the enemy carriers are but, from the size of the first and second waves, we figure there’s at least three battle groups. Some broke off and went straight for the Starlight. Don’t know her state. She went off-line several hours ago and we haven’t heard from her since.”
Chasileah asked about the IronStone. The officer replied, “She’s heavily damaged, boilers are out, and there’s lots of casualties…may have to abandon ship. That’s all I know.”
Chasileah’s voice was growing frantic, but she managed to maintain control. “What of the general?”
The officer reassured her. “Oh, General DinChizki is fine, Major. He’s been here since this morning, preparing for our attack.”
“No! No! I mean General…” Chasileah caught her tongue. “The field marshal... What about the field marshal?”
The communications officer shook his head. “Don’t know, Major. If she was on the Starlight, it’s hard telling. We have taken heavy losses - two cruisers, three frigates, and over a dozen smaller fighting ships. We also lost some transports, I’m sad to say, but we kept ‘em away from our troop ships. None of 'em were seriously damaged. But I have received no news of the fate of the Starlight.”
Fear, concern, and frustration filled Chasileah’s heart. She stood there, head down, opening and closing her fists. After a long pause, she asked the officer to notify her of more news. “Please send someone to me with information as soon as it arrives.” She motioned toward the exit. “I’ll be right outside waiting. It’s important.”
Chasileah lingered another moment, hoping beyond hope the communications officer would hear something more as she stood there. Eventually the major turned and walking as if in a dream world, made her way for the door.
Jonathan found her a distance away, standing near some parked gun trucks, arms wrapped around herself, staring into the sky. He approached, wanting to console her.
Chasileah spun on her heels, glaring at him through tear-filled eyes. “Why did you wish for this place?! The Field of the Minds is the shelter of solace and fortunate are the ones finding it!” She let go with a tirade of curses and oaths, damning her world, herself, and all living souls within it.
Jonathan tried to explain his concern for her welfare. He knew something had been troubling her all day, and now there was the uncertainty over Tizrela. He wanted to help.
Chasileah’s temper erupted. “Go away and leave me be, Lieutenant! There are times when your intrusions are not appropriate. I have need to be alone. Now go away!”
She stomped off some twenty paces into the darkness. Jonathan was stung by Chasileah’s rebuke, but understood. He stayed at a distance, keeping a constant watch.
In dismay, he watched as Chasileah reached for the sky and let out a wail. As her cries of grief increased, the woman fell to her knees, babbling incoherent words interrupted by uncontrolled weeping. Jonathan remained silent, his own tears flowing in remorse for his companion’s suffering.
Chasileah dropped forward, face to the ground as she began beating the gravel roadway with closed fists, pummeling her hands until blood flowed. She finally sat back, writhing in agony, pulling at her hair and clawing her face. In a sudden, choking gasp, the major lurched forward, convulsing in uncontrolled vomiting. After the sickness had passed, she collapsed, falling on her side. There were some whimpers as tremors racked her body, and then silence. Exhaustion had finally forced sleep upon the woman.
Gentle arms cradled the major as she was carried away and placed in the back seat of an open quarter-deuce. Jonathan stood vigil over his companion well into the next day. When the sun arrived in the morning, he read the tattered note that had fallen from her hand when she collapsed. It read:
‘I regret to inform you that General Drorli has been killed in action. He was directing construction at PrasiaOdous when the enemy overran his position. His loss is deeply felt by all
Tizrela.’
