Part 15
When God inspir'd us for the fight,
Their ranks were broke, their lines were forc'd,
Their ships were shatter'd in our sight,
Or swiftly driven from our coast.
-- William Billings, 1770
Three hours after the destruction of the Ch'ton heavy carrier, Alistair McKeon looked up to see Richard Grayson walk onto the Chaffee's bridge. For the first time in their acquaintance, Richard actually looked tired. And no wonder, Alistair thought to himself. The battle had been going on for more than eight hours! Richard walked over to where Honor was standing.
"Any change, ma'am?" he asked, tiredly hopeful.
"I'm sorry, Dick -- our reports still have the Home Fleet holding on the outskirts of the system."
As Alistair watched Honor watch Richard, he saw her come to some sort of decision. She called out across the bridge, "Mr. McKeon, would you join the CAG and me in the forward briefing room? Mr. Panowski, you have the watch."
"Yes, Skipper."
"Aye, ma'am."
She led the two men into the small room. "Alistair, please bring up the tactical display -- including the Home Fleet and Admiral Cortez's forces."
Alistair did so, and the three of them stared at the situation. Destroying the Ch'ton heavy carrier and the refit station had induced the Home Fleet to move toward Ophidia, but so far they had made no move to join in the fighting.
"Why don't they move in!" Alistair asked in consternation.
"It's simple, Al," Richard said wearily. "They don't care whether their own people live or die. They must figure if they wait long enough, either we'll give up and leave the system, or the base will wear us down enough to make it a cinch to finish us off."
"That's my thought as well," concurred Honor. "Dick, since you're more familiar with the situation, is there any way we can take out that base quickly? What if we brought the carriers into the attack as well?"
Richard sat in one of the chairs and tipped it back so he could rest his head against the wall. Alistair could see him trying to concentrate through his exhaustion. Leaning forward again, he shook his head.
"At this juncture, I don't think we can do it. Since the Bugs have fewer fighters now, they've retreated to the defense base so they can take advantage of its guns. Between those guns and our own fatigue factor, we're really starting to get mauled. If we brought in the big ships, I'm worried the enemy fighters would start making kamikaze runs, and we don't have enought fighters to protect you against that."
"That's what I was afraid of," said Honor quietly. Alistair watched her stare at the display as if she could force it to give her a solution. Suddenly, her face cleared, and a fierce light appeared in her eyes.
"Alistair, check me on this -- if we moved to attack the planet, could the Home Fleet intercept us before we reached it?"
Alistair plotted out the courses on the display. "Yes, ma'am. Assuming they detected our course change, the two vectors would intersect around 135,000 miles from Ophidia."
"Good! We can gather up all our fighters, and ..."
"I'm not sure we should do that, Skipper," Richard interrupted. He continued before she could say anything, "I think you should let us stay here and run interference against the station forces."
Looking at the display, Alistair realized Richard was right. The enemy fighters would immediately go after the threat to Ophidia, which might make the Home Fleet delay an interception attempt. But if the Earth fighters stayed to keep the station forces occupied, once the Home Fleet began pursuing the carriers, the Earth ships would not be in a position to pick up their fighters and still "retreat" in the direction of Admiral Cortez. Which meant leaving the fighters behind ...
"I don't want to leave any of my people behind, Mr. Grayson," stated Honor, echoing Alistair's thoughts.
"It's not as bad as it sounds, Skipper," said Richard, with surprising cheer. "I think the Chaffee and the McCain would be a credible enough attack force. If the Lexington stays here, she is more than capable of transporting all of the fighters."
"And then we all bug out together when we 'discover' the Home Fleet racing in to protect Ophidia," continued Alistair with a grin of his own.
"Whereupon Admiral Cortez's pincers close," smiled Honor.
~~~~~~~~~~
It took a little while, but Honor was eventually able to get Admiral Cortez to agree to the revised plan. From what Alistair could gather, the Lexington's captain was not too thrilled with his role in the plan, but he couldn't argue against the logic of it.
When the video conference briefing was over, Alistair turned to Honor. "Why is it, that with all these high-ranking officers and planning staff personnel running around, the only ideas that seem to accomplish anything are the ones you and Richard come up with?"
She tried to bat away the implied compliment. "I don't think it's like that at all, and I'm not sure the Admiral would appreciate you talking about his officers that way." She then tried to steer the conversation back to business. "Is Dick aboard ship?"
Alistair let her off the hook. "Yes, Skipper. Actually, I signaled him as soon as the Admiral'd given the go-ahead, and he brought everybody back in and ordered them to get some sack time while they could." He grinned, "I don't think he got too many arguments. He also wanted to give the maintenance crews time to give the birds a thorough going-over."
"All right then, I'll let them rest as long as possible. What about the McCain's fighters?"
"Richard told me he'd suggested the same thing to the McCain's CAG, so right now, the Lexington's fighters are just flying a few sorties to keep up appearances."
"Excellent. I had planned to pull out immediately, but I'll talk to Captain D'Orville over on the McCain. I think we can delay things for a bit."
"Chief Killian said he could have all the fighters ready to go in about an hour."
"That will be fine, Alistair."
An hour later, the thirty-four remaining pilots' Barracudas filled the space in front of the Chaffee. They assembled into formation and flew off toward the Ch'ton base one last time. On the bridge, Honor and Alistair stood watching them on the ship's viewscreen. Alistair was not really surprised when one of the rear fighters waggled its wings at them, and the CAG's cheerful voice came over the ship's intercom.
"Catch you on the flip side, Skipper! Don't be late!"
~~~~~~~~~~
The base forces tried to go after the Chaffee and the McCain but were unable to break through the wall of Navy fighters. As a result, the Ch'ton Home Fleet finally began to move into the system. When Honor judged she'd had sufficient time to "detect" the enemy forces, she stopped their advance toward Ophidia and began "retreating" toward Admiral Cortez's forces. As they had hoped, the Home Fleet wasn't willing just to keep them from attacking; after having gone to all this trouble, the Ch'ton were out for blood.
The enemy followed the two ships, not even pausing when the Lexington gathered up all the remaining fighters and headed to the same point in space that the Chaffee and the McCain were. Just in front of the minefield, Admiral Cortez's forces came blasting through, taking the Ch'ton completely by surprise. Before the Ch'ton even had time to decide whether to fight or retreat, the rear section of Cortez's task force closed distances and began firing on them. The Ch'ton still fought doggedly, but the eventual end was no longer in doubt.
Following standard rules of engagement, Admiral Cortez made multiple broadcasts requesting the Ch'ton ships to surrender, assuring them they would only be taken prisoner and would not be harmed. However, following standard Ch'ton battle procedures, each ship suicided before it could be taken. A pair of Ch'ton fighters managed to take the destroyer Ardennes with them when they blew, but that was the only ship lost from the task force.
Once the battle was over, the Chaffee and McCain could at last retrieve their pilots from the Lexington. Admiral Cortez had shuttled over to the Chaffee to await their arrival. He had also requested that the other ships in the task force form a gauntlet on either side of an imaginary aisle between the huge Lexington and the two smaller carriers. As the fighters left the Lexington, the other ships flashed their running lights in continuous salute to the people who had made their victory possible.
Although he was moved by the other ships' tribute, Alistair still couldn't help the sick feeling in his stomach as he watched the Chaffee's returning fighters. Forty-eight pilots had started the battle with the Ch'ton; he now counted twenty-six. Looking closely, he finally located Richard's fighter. And yes, there was Andy LaFollett. He kept watching the fighters, trying to remember which ship number belonged to which pilot. He needed to blink because the images kept blurring.
"XO, would you care to join the Admiral and me on the flight deck?" asked Honor, a slight tremor in her normally calm voice.
"Yes, ma'am," he managed to get out.
"Very well. Mr. Stromboli, you have the watch."
"Aye, ma'am."
~~~~~~~~~~
Normally, after a patrol or even a battle, the pilots tended to leave the flight deck in small groups as they arrived in the two landing airlocks aboard the Chaffee. This time, they waited and gathered as each group of four climbed out of their ships. Admiral Cortez had wanted to go and greet them immediately, but Honor had persuaded him to wait on the sidelines until all the fighters were aboard.
LaFollett and Grayson were the last to come aboard. When their fighters were towed from the airlock into the flight deck, the other pilots stood in formation alongside. As the CAG and his XO climbed down from their ships, Alistair heard one of the assembled pilots -- Clinkscales, he thought -- call the formation to attention. With parade-ground precision, the pilots drew themselves up to attention and saluted.
Alistair saw the surprise on Andy's face, but Richard's remained expressionless. The two men stood in front of their command and returned salute just as precisely. Richard called out, "At ease," and walked down the row. He and Andy solemnly shook each pilot's hand, exchanged murmured comments, and shooed them over to see the captain and Admiral Cortez.
As each pilot walked up to them, Alistair would introduce him or her to the Admiral. Cortez gravely shook hands with each one, telling them what a fine job they had done and how proud he was to have them in his command.
"Finally, sir," said Alistair, "this is Lt. Commander Richard Grayson."
The admiral's face brightened even more, and he shook Richard's hand enthusiastically. "Commander Grayson! I am very pleased to meet you, young man! It's my belief that you and Captain Harrington saved this entire operation. You have my deepest thanks, and you may be sure that my final report will mention the two of you very favorably indeed!"
Richard smiled at Cortez and thanked him and said all the right things one is supposed to say to an admiral. It was fairly obvious to Alistair, though, that Richard was just going through the motions. After Honor escorted Cortez to his shuttle to return to his flagship, Alistair saw Richard's face fall back into the expressionless state it had been in when he landed.
"What is it, Rich?" Alistair asked quietly. He saw the younger man take a deep breath and motion with his head for Alistair to follow him. In silence, he followed Richard to his cramped little office. Once inside, the pilot sank into his desk chair and motioned for Alistair to have a seat.
"Rabbit's dead," Richard said flatly.
"That was what I had assumed," Alistair replied quietly.
"He died saving my life. Andy had lost his wingman, and I was pulling a bandit off his six, when I realized I had looped right into another bandit's crosshairs. Right as the bandit took his shot, Rabbit came screaming in to take him out. I guess he was coming so fast, he didn't notice the shot, and it hit him instead of me."
"Did you get the guy who shot him?"
"Oh yeah. Didn't help though. Rabbit's still dead."
Still the same flat tone. Alistair was starting to get worried. Then he jumped, as the sound of Richard's palm striking the top of the desk echoed like a gunshot in the small room.
"People are not supposed to die saving me!" Richard shouted. "I'm supposed to protect them! They're not the ones who are supposed to get hurt! Why do they always keep getting hurt?" he asked Alistair plaintively, tears starting to run down his cheeks. "Why can't I keep them safe? I couldn't keep Barbara safe. I couldn't save Jason or my mom or my dad. Not even Bruce. Why does it always happen to them and not me?"
Okay. Alistair knew Richard's wife, Barbara, was in a wheelchair. But he had no clue what happened to those other people. While he was still trying to decide if he should call Lt. Montoya, the ship's doctor, Honor walked into the office.
"Dick, I'm sorry about Rabbit and the other pilots," she said, her soprano voice soft with compassion.
Alistair watched Richard scrub at his eyes and try to gather himself in front of his CO.
She continued, "You and I are a lot alike, Dick. It's always hard when we lose people in our command. Especially because they are people in our command. We are responsible for them, and each death feels like a failure on our part." She pulled a chair next to his and sat down. Grasping his shoulder firmly, she continued, "I wish I could tell you it gets easier, or it doesn't hurt as much, but you and I both know that would be a lie." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
She reached over and gently turned his face toward hers. "You are an excellent leader, Richard Grayson. Your people think you are too, as you should know from that little demonstration back on the flight deck. I think they know you would give your life for theirs, so it's not too surprising to me that one of them would do so for you."
"I know it hurts," she continued as he remained silent. "But I also know that Rabbit would not have wanted to live knowing he could have saved your life and didn't."
"How do you know?" Richard asked in a harsh tone.
"I know my people, Dick," she replied emphatically. "I know Lieutenant Junior Grade Wesley 'Rabbit' Matthews had no family that cared about him -- until he joined the Navy. Even then, he was still something of a loner. When he joined this ship, you made him a part of this strange 'family' you've created out of the fighter wing. Now he had brothers and sisters; something he'd never had before. Today, he was out there protecting his family."
Honor sighed. "In the end, all I can tell you is what others have told me -- you do your job the best you can; you trust your people to give you the best that they can; and sometimes, that best is their life."
She suddenly glanced toward the door, so Alistair did too. Andy LaFollett was standing just outside the door, and Alistair could see several other pilots crowded around him. Honor nodded to Andy, squeezed Richard's shoulder one more time, and stood up. She and Alistair left the cramped little office, hoping that the other members of the "family" would be able to comfort each other as they grieved for the comrades they had lost.
As he and Honor walked back toward the bridge, Alistair couldn't help thinking of a line from an old poem he'd learned in high school. "To the gallows-foot and after, Rabbit," he murmured.
~~~~~~~~~~
The Thousandth Man
by Rudyard Kipling
One man in a thousand, Solomon says,
Will stick more close than a brother.
And it's worthwhile seeking him half your days
If you find him before the other.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine depend
On what the world sees in you,
But the Thousandth Man will stand your friend
With the whole round world agin you.
'Tis neither promise nor prayer nor show
Will settle the finding for 'ee.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em go
By your looks, or your acts, or your glory.
But if he finds you and you find him,
The rest of the world don't matter;
For the Thousandth Man will sink or swim
With you in any water.
You can use his purse with no more talk
Than he uses yours for his spendings,
And laugh and meet in your daily walk
As though there had been no lendings.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em call
For silver and gold in their dealings;
But the Thousandth Man he's worth 'em all,
Because you can show him your feelings.
His wrong's your wrong, and his right's your right,
In season or out of season.
Stand up and back it in all men's sight--
With that for your only reason!
Nine hundred and ninety-nine can't bide
The shame or mocking or laughter,
But the Thousandth Man will stand by your side
To the gallows-foot--and after!
** End Part 15 **