GENELLAN: PLANETFALL(6)
Hudson continued to transmit: "You'll hear contact on your hull in less than a minute. I'm going to secure you with the grapple."
"Mr. Hudson, the fleet jumped. What're we going to do?" Lee asked.
"First things first, Lee. Let's get you rigged and docked, and then we'll take the next step. If it's any consolation, I'm scared silly, too. Hang on."
"Yes, sir," she replied, gaining reassurance that her lifeboat would soon be taken in tow, relieving her of being alone and easing the burden of powerless responsibility. Suppressing thought, she concentrated on the many checklist items left to do.
* * *
"Established in hyperlight, sir. Admiral...did you copy? Stable jump," reported Captain Wells, the flag operations officer. "Sir, are you all right?"
Fleet Admiral Robert Runacres floated at the perimeter barrier of the flag bridge. Even in the null gravity of the operations core he appeared to lean heavily on the railing, clenched hands and thick legs spread wide, the weight of concern bowing his helmet low. T.L.S. Eire's bridge watch, in battle dress, moved professionally below, but anxious glances were flashed in his direction. Runacres slowly unbent his neck and scanned the displays. Red emergency signals continued to flash on annunciator panels, defining the ill-fated mothership's status.
"Admiral, we need to shore up Greenland's sector," Wells said. "She's gone, Admiral. We caught her in the grid, but she's dead. No signals, no links. They've recovered some lifeboats."
"I see that, Franklin," Runacres said, pushing over to the tactical consoles. The flag duty officers—a tactical watch officer and assistant—were strapped into a horseshoe-shaped station at the lowest point of the flag bridge. Runacres looked down at the constantly updating status panels.
"Baffin or N.Z. report in yet?" Runacres asked.
"No, sir," the tactical officer reported. Several ships had broken radio discipline during the melee and were continuing to do so in the safety of hyperspace. Baffin and Novaya Zemlya, in the rear guard, had not been involved in the action, their captains wisely refraining from adding to the communications tumult. Greenland, in the van, had been the only mothership to take hits.
Aliens! He had found an alien race. But at what cost? Runacres straightened, removed the helmet from his slick-shaven head, and rubbed red-rimmed, watery blue eyes with gloved fists, shaking the fatigue and uncertainty from his ruddy countenance. He pushed off from tactical and floated past the stepped-up bridge stations, between the consoles manned by his somber operations officer and that of the corvette group leader, to his own command station.
"Terminate General Quarters," Runacres commanded, pulling himself into his tethers.
"Aye, aye, Admiral," Wells replied. The burly ops officer removed his helmet and touched a series of keys on his console. He mounted a delicate earpiece on his sweat-shiny, shaven head and began issuing orders on the network.
Runacres signaled the tactical officer. "Updated damage report."
"Aye, aye, Admiral," she replied, vigorously keying her console. Commander Ito floated into position behind the admiral. Runacres lifted his hand without looking up, and the aide placed a squeeze tube in the admiral's palm. Runacres squirted the sweet contents down his throat and waited for the energy rush.
"Damage report, Admiral," said the tactical officer.
"Go," said Runacres.
"Greenland destroyed. Catastrophic hull penetration, thermal runaway on reactor drives. Twenty-two survivors reported in lifeboats. Retrieval underway."
"Oh, God," Runacres groaned. Twenty-two survivors out of a crew of four hundred; but he had found an alien race. A race of killers?
"Preliminary indications are Tasmania sustained damage from a near maximum range energy beam—our own," continued the tactical officer. "Friendly fire stripped away positioning and communication gear but caused no structural damage. Tierra del Fuego reports moderate damage from acceleration stress and light radiation exposures."
"Tasmania's corvettes were recovered prior to jumping," added the group leader. "Peregrine One, Jake Carmichael's ship, took out three alien interceptors. One TDF corvette, Osprey Two, is missing. Skipper of Osprey One confirms that Osprey Two was destroyed in action before the fleet jumped. Osprey One and Two are both credited with single kills."
Runacres grunted.
"Four of Greenland's corvettes were recovered," continued the group leader. "Harrier One, Jack Quinn's 'vette, last reported engaged with alien units, is missing, presumed left behind. Quinn was covering the flight's return to grid." His report complete, the group leader sat nervously silent. Runacres stared at a point far beyond the bulkhead of his space ship.