Berger had only seconds to decide. In another minute the Fire and Rescue trucks would be on her and more than likely the shore patrolmen from inside the jail would quickly make rounds, do head counts.
Using all of her strength, Berger managed to crawl her way out of the wall breach, carefully avoiding the sharp ends of the protruding iron bars. She laid prone in the grass for a few seconds and caught her breath. Now she was prepared to add “escape to avoid criminal prosecution” to her lengthy list of crimes. Well, she thought, if they catch me, they can only execute me once, no matter how many counts they have against me. Her mind was made up and she pushed herself off the ground and made her way around to the west side of the building. Various persons were running to the crash site and she took off in the opposite direction. Later they would have no recollection of even seeing her.
Once she made her way to a stand of low trees she rested, watched and waited. Surely an opportunity would present itself for her to get proper clothes, maybe even transportation off the base. She slowly worked her way around to the perimeter fence and hunkered down next to a small service road. If she played her cards right and luckily picked the right vehicle, she would soon be free. As she worked out her plan of escape in her head, she heard the sound of an approaching ground car. A civilian’s vehicle, she determined.
Perfect.
* * *
“Davi, I’ve got to go!” Commander Milli Gertz said. “There’s been a shuttle crash over near the stockade. Lot’s of injuries,” she said, putting her communicator back on her hip.
Commander Davi Yorn waved his hand. “Of course, get moving, Milli. I can find my way back to my room. You just get going, I’ll be fine.”
They had been on their way back to the second floor and Yorn’s room when the shuttle crash and explosion rocked the base. Yorn was in his third week of rehab and making slow but steady progress. He figured another week of PT — physical therapy — and he could kiss this place goodbye. He was anxious to get back to duty.
In a quick move that caught him off guard, Milli turned and gave him a quick peck on his lips. “No heroics, Davi. Get back to your room and settle in. I’ll be back later to check on you.”
With that last pronouncement she was gone, leaving a statue-still Davi Yorn looking at her backside. What the hell was that all about? he wondered. Yes, they had been pretty close these last weeks, she had visited him every day and helped him down to the PT suite twice a day, they had held hands as he shuffled through the polished corridors of the Weyring Navy Base Hospital, but that was the first time she had ever pulled a stunt like that. Fraternization with a superior officer! What an egregious disregard of standing regulations.
He started his shuffle back toward the elevator alcove. A lot of rankings were rushing past him at speed and some even apologized to him as they brushed in way too close. Such was the hazards of walking unescorted through a busy hospital corridor during wartime. He tried to make his profile as small as possible and once he even retreated to a storage locker doorway to get out of the way of the running medics. The crash must have been a bad one, he mused, and the corpsmen were pulling out all the stops to get to the scene in time to possibly save lives.
Just a few short months ago he had been on the receiving end of such professional treatment himself and it had been Milli Gertz and that Doctor Jamison that had saved his own life. Gertz and Jamison. Gertz.
Her name kept bouncing off the inside of his skull like an errant billiard ball seeking cushions but no pockets. He would have to come to grips with the obvious sooner or later. She was making small yet overt moves in his direction and while flattering, he wondered if he really wanted the entanglement of a woman right now. Things were happening in the Third Fleet at a record pace and he wanted fiercely to get back in. Action was what the adrenalin junkies like himself and Pax Curtan and even Captain Haad lived for. Commanding men and machines in battle with a determined enemy: textbook descriptions of the duties of senior officers in the Colonial Navy.
Yorn was still contemplating the Gertz equation when he finally made it to the elevator. When the doors opened he saw a familiar face. It was Doctor Anson Isaacs. Yorn slowly stepped into the car.
“Well, as I live and breathe, if it isn’t my favorite crash test dummy,” Isaacs said, looking up from his portable. “How’s the PT going, David?” Isaacs was so old-school that he still called his former crewmates by their given names in full, eschewing the colonial practice of shortening names to suit individual tastes. He would call Milli by her given name Mildred, Uri Haad by Uriel, and so forth, sometimes much to the bewilderment of other persons listening to the conversation and not really knowing whom he was addressing.
“Oh, hey, doc. Did I mention that you’re my favorite sawbones? No? Must have slipped my mind,” Yorn said, stifling his laugh. “How come you’re not running toward the crash site with the rest of the hospital?”
“They have to leave someone here to take care of the wounded, don’t they?”
“I thought you were on graves detail, doc. Scuttlebutt has it most of your patients don’t make it. You just coming up from the morgue?”
Isaacs screwed up his face. “How about that. My reputation is intact,” he said dismissively. “You don’t look like you’re dead yet, commander. I seem to remember putting a lot of time and energy into your care on the Christi.” The elevator car crept slowly upward. “Here, let me see the back of your head.”
Yorn turned slightly and Isaacs grunted.
“My head hasn’t fallen off that I can remember,” Yorn said.
“Hmmph. You know, I could reduce that scar with a bit of micro-laser surgery, David. Now that I’m in a real medical facility with the latest equipment.”
Yorn shrugged. “Not a chance. As far as I know, that scar is the only thing that can identify me as the real me, and not some Varson spy. I’m keeping it, if it’s all the same to you.”
The elevator doors wheezed open and the two officers stepped out into the corridor. Things were a lot quieter on the second floor. Yorn nodded toward the south end of the corridor. “Well, doc, I’m heading beck to my hospitality suite. You take care of yourself.”
Isaacs looked at his watch and his reader. “I’ve got a minute, let me walk with you to your room.”
Yorn nodded and started off, his steps showing more control and less favoring of his left side. “Suit yourself. I’m not going to be around here for much longer. A few more days and I’m going to test out of here. I’ve got most of my strength back and my muscles are longing for some Varson action, if you know what I mean.”
“That’s good to hear, David. I’m sure Mildred had a lot to do with that. She’s soft on you, if you hadn’t already figured that out.”
Yorn stopped in the corridor a few meters from his room door. His mind returned to the fleeting kiss she had given him just a few minutes before. “Yeah, I guess she is. How do you figure that, doc? I mean, with all of these doctors and surgeons running around this place, why in the world would she go for an old salt like me? I’ve got nothing to offer a woman, I’m a dyed-in-the-wool Navy man.”
Isaacs smiled and clasped him on his good shoulder. “I don’t know the answer to that one. As sophisticated as our medicine has become, it still cannot figure out simple attraction paradigms. She likes you a lot, David. Deal with it. I do seem to recall you two had a pretty good relationship aboard the Christi, no?”
Yorn looked both ways in the corridor and finally let his gaze return to the wizened old doctor. “That was strictly professional, doc,” he said.
“But, that was then, this is now. Think man! She was lighting up like a green status board every time you came into her lab, everytime she saw you in my triage bay. She’s trying to send you subtle transmissions and all you have to do is tune them in. Are you blind or is your radio receiver just turned off?”
Yorn looked away and smiled. “Roger, that. I guess I just haven’t been tuned in to what she had been telling me.”
“Do yourself a favor, David. Get with her. It may do you both some good. I’ve seen thousands of sailors on my tables during my career, some salvageable, some not. Most of the ones that don’t make it seem to have one common thread in their last requests. Do you know what it is?”
Yorn folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “No. What is it?”
“They all want me to tell someone, some relative, wife, girlfriend, or shipmate, they all want me to tell that special someone that they love them. That’s a powerful dying declaration, David. You think about it. Don’t leave this life without someone to love. You’ll be much the sorrier if you do.”
“Well, thanks for the advice, doc. Don’t let me keep you from your duties,” Yorn said. He was beginning to tire of Isaacs philosophical rants.
“Just think about it, son,” he said as he turned away. “By the way, I get to sign your fitness report and certify you for a return to duty. I’ll see you in a few days, David.”
Yorn watched him return to the center of the corridor, look at his reader, head down another hallway to the west.
As he entered his room, his fingers idly touched his lips and he still felt the tingle there from Milli Gertz’s kiss. Maybe the doc had a point, he thought.
Chapter 16
“I’m telling you, Canno is gone!” Commander Volk said. “When we stalled out, I had an opportunity to contact the yards on Luna-II to get some technical details to my enginemen. The yardmaster had just transmitted the relay replacement information when he started yelling and screaming. He was ordering all boats off the base, clearing the yards. He said Varson ships were inbound, headed for Canno. Teals had just left the PA dock when our orbiting group engaged the Varson ships.”
Pax Curton was sitting on the edge of a bed in the sick bay on the Mississippi River. The docs had just finished sewing up a nasty gash on Commander Volk’s shoulder when he was pronounced fit to be interviewed. Standing close was Captain Dryfus and an assortment of senior officers from his bridge. Volk paused, winced, and continued.
“We got our containment coil fixed and headed for the fold to Bayliss. Looking behind, I saw three Varson ships closing. We spun up the Dyson to max efficiency and just barely made the jump. They fired at us as we accelerated away from Canno and two of their beams caught us in the ass. We hit the fold trailing fire and innards from the topside decks, sir.”
“Tell me what you saw before you jumped, commander. What you saw on Canno and Luna-II,” Dryfus interjected.
Brian Volk was shaking. One of the corpsmen approached and increased the drip on his IV. Dark red blood started to seep from the newly-applied bandages on his right shoulder. “Perhaps you can finish this later,” the medtech said.
“No, no, I’m okay. I have to get this out. The Admiralty has to know what happened!”
“Go on, commander. What did you see?” Curton prodded.
“So, we hit the fold and Captain Gallet went aft to look at the damage. While he was below, one of the fuel bottles lost its magnetic containment and blew. The captain and sixteen engine ratings were lost to the void. They didn’t stand a chance. I took the bridge and poured every man I could spare into damage control. We sealed the topside aft decks, rewelded some pressure doors, and reconfigured our Higgs to try to contain our life support. Once the ship settled down in the fold, I went below to see what I could do. That’s when another bottle blew and I was struck with flying debris. The pressure door was coming right at me, I had to duck out of the way, got clipped anyway.”
“And, Canno?” Curton pressed. “I put the aft wide-angle on the left side of my blister and replayed the images while the docs tried to stop me from bleeding out. I refused to go to sick bay; the ship needed me on the bridge.”
“That was a very brave thing you did, commander. You probably saved many lives by getting your ship through the fold,” Captain Dryfus said, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice.
Pax Curton was not as conciliatory. “Damn it all, Volk! What the fuck did you see? If Canno came under attack, it is my duty to get that information to Admiral Geoff and Admiral Paine without delay!”
“Yes, you are right, sir. It’s just that, I really don’t know how to describe it. The Varson ships fired some kind of missile down to the planet and it exploded in atmosphere. It looked as if it sucked all of the air right out of its detonation zone. Then the impetus of the inbound missile sent a firestorm down to the surface and it raced across the planet, destroying everything in its path. Looked like the damage was centered on the base at Yellin. It would be a miracle if anyone survived.”
Curton stood. “Did you manage to get your logbook off the Lake Michigan before you scuttled her, commander?”
“Aye, captain. It’s down in the lifeboat. Three sealed cubes.”
Dryfus called one of the officers to the bed and instructed him to retrieve the recordings.
“Very well, Mister Volk. You have served your men and women admirably,” Curton said. “Is this man fit to travel?” he inquired over his shoulder at the gaggle of medicine men at his six.
“I should think so,” one of the docs said. “He made it here after twelve hours in the fold. What do you have in mind, captain?”
Curton turned to face the speaker. His nametag identified him as CDR B. KALTY, MD. “Doctor Kalty, get Commander Volk ready for travel, seal his shoulder. I am departing for Weyring Base within the hour. He has information vital to our war efforts and I want to present him to Admiral Paine in person. I will see to it that he has proper care at the Weyring Navy Base Hospital.” He turned to Captain Dryfus. “You are now officially in charge of the battle group, captain, and as soon as Captain Zane is aboard the Pearl we make way for Bayliss. You’ll need to send a front-line officer over to the Casco Bay to relieve Captain Zane. We are under orders to report to the Admiralty no later than 0800 hours tomorrow.”
The captains exchanged salutes and hand shakes. Doctor Kalty barked a string of orders to his corpsmen and within minutes Curton and Volk were headed to the shuttle bay.
* * *
When the shuttle finally touched down at the Weyring Navy Base, Captain Haad was the last one to hit the tarmac. Right behind him was Holli Leaf and her contingent of photojournalists. He was drawing out his goodbye for as long as he could.
The conversation on the way to Bayliss had been polite, engaging, at times sensual, and totally beneficial to them both. He’d laughed, she’d cried, they shared many of life’s little secrets as the boat spiraled down to the ground. Public displays of affection while in uniform were strictly frowned upon and Haad had done everything in his power to resist his urge to just grab onto her and hold tight for as long as he had breath in his body. However, his duty called. He was scheduled to meet with Admiral Paine at 0800 hours tomorrow and he had a briefing to prepare. She was going to head back to BayCom offices and start downloading her three-plus months’ of footage and stills.
When the BayCom bus arrived at the arrival gate to retrieve its employees, they shared a hasty last embrace.
“I know you have tons of things to do, Uri, but try to find time to call. You have my portable’s number. Use it,” Holli said.
He looked around sheepishly. With all of the activity going on at the gate, no one was really paying them much attention. “Yes, I will,” he said.
“When are you heading out to the War College?” she wanted to know.
“Probably in a day or two. We have to assemble as many of my old crew members as possible for the ceremonies. Check your sources when you get back to your office; I’m sure you folks know much more about what’s scheduled than I do. Who knows, maybe they’ll send you up to take the photographs.”
She showed him a big smile. “Not a bad idea, captain. I could always say I need the footage to complete the documentary.”
The thought of seeing her again, on the ground, in private, made his heart flutter for a beat or two. “Well, I’ve got to run. See that big guy over there
with all the stripes and the big gun? I think he’s waiting for me.”
She looked at the shore patrolman. “Take care of yourself, Uri. Keep yourself in one piece for me,” she said tenderly and stroked the side of his face. Her traveling companions started whooping and hollering behind her.
“I’ll call,” he said as she turned.
Holli grabbed her equipment bags and headed for the waiting bus. She was swatting arms and pushing back on the cat-calls and jibes from Gil Palise and his buddies.
Haad stared after her until she was aboard the bus and gone, his last image of her was the golden crown of her hair as she turned from the rear window of the bus. When Mark Fuller called his name it took a few minutes for the information to process.
“Come on, old man, let’s get this show on the road. The rest of the crew has off-loaded and we’re bringing up the rear,” Fuller said.
Haad looked at the young officer and withered him with a stern glance. “Careful with the ‘old man’ references, Mark. One of these days you’ll be in my shoes and some pimple-faced captain will be trying to hustle you along to the Old Sailor’s Home. When that happens, trust me, you’ll resent it too.”
Fuller was taken aback slightly but didn’t let it show. “No disrespect meant, Uri. I know you senior men have paved the way for me and a lot more like me. I was just saying —”
“Stow it, Captain Fuller. Our transportation is here. Let’s go.”
When they hit the curb in front of the building the sun was just beginning its plunge behind the hills to the west and the long shadows were stretched out behind the men like thin smoky gray specters. It was not lost on Captain Mark Fuller that he was walking in the shadow of a great man; Uriel Haad was one of the few living legends in the Colonial Navy and Fuller regretted having called him an “old man” to his face.
The Belt Loop_Book 3_End of an Empire Page 11
