Chapter 17: Hard Decisions
UNSC Medical Vessel Tybalt, Near Syphon, Reach Debris Field, Epsilon Eridani System
Dr. Calkins walked out of the OR to wash his hands from the surgery he had just been. He took it as valuable experience, working on a Spartan. But after five hours he wasn't in the mood to reflect upon it. Calkins took off his blood soaked scrubs and changed into new ones. There was a slight jolt on the Tybalt causing his heart to jump.
"Sorry about that, we're maneuvering to a better position to receive wounded from the surface. I'd also like to say that from our position it looks like the Covenant forces are retreating. Captain Nathaniels out." Calkins decided to talk to anybody waiting for the Spartan before he'd be sent back into the OR treating more wounded soldiers. He started to prepare for the deaths that were sure to happen that day. The doctor walked into the public area and stood for a moment. There were a few marines waiting there nervously. He was about to announce the surgery when he saw a group of heavily armed soldiers and one Spartan walked in through the main door.
"Are you here for the Petty Officer?" he asked the group which walked straight towards him.
"Yes doctor," said the lead H.R. officer.
"We need to discuss some things that are easier in private." He waved them to one of the many private rooms behind him. The Special Forces officers walked past him, not even acknowledging him, but the Spartan stared at him the whole time. Dr. Calkins walked to the front of the twenty by twenty room, dimmed the lights and turned on the holo projector. The shape of a Human leg materialized in the air so Calkins began to speak.
" Spartan One-oh-Four's Femoral artery was torn, not severed tike previously thought considering the bullet hole only hit a small part. It most likely tore from strenuous movement or great stresses, like leaving Syphon. I have a few questions for you first, how was the wound caused?"
"Friendly fire," the Spartan answered quickly, a little to quickly.
"Who caused the incident? We need this information for the standard follow-up investigation," Calkins asked.
"That is classified information," the highest-ranking H.R. officer responded, the glowing blue optic lenses the only indication of his existence.
"Okay…we believe the wound was caused by a pistol round, is this correct?"
"Yes," the same officer responded.
"How long ago did the incident happen?"
"From time of arrival?" asked the Spartan.
"Yes, ma'am."
"No more than twenty five minutes."
"Thank-you. Right now the patient is listed in critical condition but is stable. Here is what we believe happened," the projector changed and showed the Femoral artery with the bullet wound, "This is what it looked like immediately after the incident, now here is what happened when it tore," all of the soldiers watched intently as the leg muscle started to move and the artery tore. Once it tore the artery retracted about three inches in both directions.
"As you can see we had some work to do but this is what it looks like now," the artery joined back together and covered in a device to hold it in place, and the bullet hole sown together, "He's in critical condition due to severe blood loss, we gave him extra blood but he'll need more soon and we're going to be low after this new wave of wounded comes through. Are any of you AB positive?" All of the H.R. officers shook their heads but the Spartan nodded.
"All of the Spartans were AB positive so that we could transfuse blood between each other," she replied.
"Okay, I'll need you to come with me so we can draw blood. The rest of you can wait can wait outside." The officers stood up and walked out while the Spartan waited for the doctor. After walking for about two minutes the doctors guest finally spoke,
"Will he be okay?"
"Unless some unforeseen complications arise, yes. Here we are, I hope you have some type of built in apparatus to draw blood."
"Yes, sir." The Spartan took off the lower portion of her arm armor and then proceeded to open part of her bio suit revealing pasty white skin. The doctor took the needle and started to draw her blood, a pint total.
"We might need more but for right now this is good." The Spartan nodded in return and pieced her armor back together. Calkins led her back to the H.R. detail before getting his OR station ready for the incoming casualties.
Linda walked out of the seventh floor emergency complex with her detail leading the way. She still wasn't sure why the five soldiers were with her, presumably to watch out for her well being after her concussion. They walked back to elevator complex and arrived at the main hangar just in time to miss the incoming casualties. Some just had minor burns on the body and were helped by their buddies whereas others were screaming as they were carefully loaded onto gurneys and wheeled to elevators as fast as possible. The small band of soldiers got onto the Pelican they had used to come to the Tybalt earlier. The large door closed and they took off, headed for the Trilon who had single-handedly destroyed three Covenant cruisers. When they arrived there was a messenger waiting for them at their docking station.
"Sir, Colonel Anderson has requested that you are to report to him immediately," the messenger said to the Major in front of Linda.
"Thank you," he responded. The Sergeant saluted to them as the small group headed to Colonel Anderson's quarters.
"What is his condition Major Larson?" Anderson asked.
"He is listed in critical condition, sir," Larson replied.
"Will he be combat ready for the mission? I need a no bull answer." The Major didn't say anything instead looked at the Lieutenants next to him.
"I don't think so," Linda said loudly, embarrassing the Major. Anderson put his hands on his temples and started to massage them, exhaling loudly as he did so.
"Well, I need your opinion Petty Officer. Do you think we should bring the other Spartan with us or can you handle it?" Linda ignored the question and instead asked her own,
"When are we scheduled to leave, sir?" Anderson looked on his built in organizer at his desk.
"The fifteenth of March, three weeks," he told her.
"He'll be ready by the twenty-fifth Colonel. Just wait ten days."
"I'm not going to jeopardize or mission for one person, Petty Officer."
"Here's the scenario Colonel," Linda started, her voice quiet and dangerous, "We go without one of your men it most likely make a difference, just one less man sent to his death. The Covenant home world is not going to be a stroll in the park; we'll most likely have to evade at least four Covenant battle groups, Flagships, Super Carriers, Heavy Frigates, you name it, it'll be there. The Spartans are the best personnel for this operation. If it were my plan I'd send a small group of soldiers along with the three remaining Spartans in to enter the Covenant Hegemonony complex. They'd be swift and deadly, but it wouldn't be a capture and leave mission. It'd be an assassination mission. Fred and I have been in a fight where the Covenant are protecting their Prophets. Never have I seen such ferocity, but I also saw resentment among the Elites towards the Prophets and their fanatical devotion to the Forerunners, you show their weakness and you can make them turn. We need to send a small group in and assassinate a Prophet in a very high leadership position. This plan won't work how it is currently set up." Anderson looked at her but didn't say a word. Linda was surprised at how she had lost control.
"I-I'm sorry, sir."
"Don't be, you're correct. We are going to redo this plan correctly," said Anderson, "Thank-You, Petty Officer."