consolidating into wings. Each wing will be Chessori or pure Rebel. They can’t function together, so they won’t be mixed. If your guess is right about them consolidating into wings, they’ll have 41 wings. We have 84 Terran-manned squadrons, and 21 of them are fast.”
Brinson turned completely away from the display, imagining in his mind the picture Trexler painted. “We have won.”
“I need to get Chandrajuski, M’Coda, and Sam Taylor here for a conference. We can’t discuss this over the radio, and a little extra time taken now will pay dividends in a few days. Steve, your job is to put a tag on every Rebel unit. Every Rebel squadron if you can. We have to figure they’ll discern our strategy. When they do, they might break up the wings, and maybe the units. We need to keep track of which ones are Chessori. That will be key to the whole battle.”
“Understood, sir. Uh, wouldn’t it be more appropriate for you to go to Chandrajuski?”
“It would, if I didn’t have to go to sick bay. The meeting can’t wait, and I need some pain relief or I won’t be any good to anyone.”
He turned to Seeton. “Harry, this is Chandrajuski’s show, but getting these slow ships positioned is extremely time critical. We have to get started now. Here’s the strategy: we were fighting defensively, just trying to hold the sector, but now we’re going on the offense. Your squadrons will make all the difference. We want to force the Rebels to pull in their reserves so we can take them out along with everyone else. They won’t pull them in unless they think they can win, so we can’t show our whole hand just yet or we’ll scare them off. I’m thinking that maybe two hundred of your ships should come in now. I think that will get the Rebels thinking about those reserves. They might even commit them. When they do, we can pull in the rest of your guys. What do you think?”
“I think you were wrong when you said this battle could not be managed, sir. Where will Chandrajuski want my ships?”
Trexler turned to Brinson. “Steve?”
“Look at the display, Ray. We’re scattered, but not nearly as scattered as the Rebels.”
“I’m not ready to look at the display yet. This is nice and simple in my mind, and I don’t want to lose the big picture. This foot is a real attention-getter.”
Steve Brinson went back to his display, and Seeton joined him. They considered options for a time while Trexler sat back with his eyes closed. His foot was on fire, completely overshadowing the throbbing along his jaw. “We’ve decided, Ray,” Brinson finally said.
“Then do it. I’m calling the conference together. I hope they’ll listen.”
Seeton got up and came to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “If he doesn’t listen to you, he’ll listen to me. We go back a long way together.”
Trexler struggled to his feet and limped to the tight beam station. “Link me to Admiral Chandrajuski, and have Admiral Taylor standing by.”
It was hard to tell when a Gamordian was stressed, but Chandrajuski looked stressed when he appeared. “Welcome back, Ray,” he said. “Can this wait?”
“No, sir. I want you to pull back all your assets for a few hours and come here for a conference. I promise you it will be worth your while.”
“Time is of the essence. Can you come here?”
“No, sir. I’m on the way to sick bay.”
“You’re sick? This is not the best of times for that, my friend.”
“Not sick. Wounded. It’s not bad, and I’m functional, but I badly need some pain relief. I can get started on that while you’re enroute.”
The great eyes blinked, and Trexler could tell Chandrajuski was on the point of refusing his request.
“Sir, if you’ll do as I ask, I guarantee a win.”
“There are no guarantees in warfare, Ray. We face a monumental uphill struggle.”
“You’re looking up at the problem. How would you like to look down on it from a position of superiority? I can’t discuss the particulars over the air. If you would, sir, keep all your ships headed inbound, whether they’re in front of or behind the Rebels. That way you won’t lose position, just a little time. And bring M’Coda.”
Chandrajuski was still on the verge of refusing. From everything he knew, he was, indeed, wasting time.
Seeton stepped into the pick-up. “Do it, sir. I beg you.”
Gamordians might move slowly most of the time, but they could make decisions quickly when it mattered. “We’re on our way.”
Trexler’s next call was to Sam Taylor.
Sam’s hair was in disarray, but otherwise he appeared non-plussed. “Hi, Ray. Are you ready to get back to work?”
“I need you here for a conference. It’s one of those things that is regrettable but will, in the end, have paybacks. You’ll like what you’re about to hear. You’ll shortly receive orders from Chandrajuski to pull back. Put a hustle on it, Sam.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Trexler reached a shaking hand to a chair and sat down. With his eyes closed, he said to Seeton, “I think I need a crutch.”
“Sorry, Ray. You’re going out of here on a stretcher. It’s already on the way, and sick bay is standing by.”
Just laying down and getting the weight off his foot was a tremendous relief to Trexler. He was sound asleep when he reached sick bay.
Seeton gave instructions to the medical staff. “He needs to be awake and alert in two hours. Whatever painkillers you use, he’ll need his full wits about him by then.”
A doctor was called and briefed. “We have a number of serious injuries here,” she said. “He’ll have to wait.”
“He’s not waiting. That’s an order, Doctor.”
Trexler went into an analyzer, and the doctor studied the results. “We have restoration tanks for injuries to the extremities, but I can’t leave him in there long without repairing the toes first. If I do, they’ll heal poorly. I’ll put him in for now, and I’ll get back to him later tonight, or maybe tomorrow. We have soldiers dying here, Admiral.”
“He needs to get back to the operations center.”
“He’s not going anywhere. If he does, he’ll lose some toes.”
“I’ll personally volunteer his toes to the war effort.”
A groggy voice sounded from the next bed. Colonel Waverly said, “I’ll volunteer the toes, too.”
“Is there no other way, sir?”
Seeton considered. “Actually, there might be another short-term solution. Can you clear an area for me to hold a meeting here?”
“We’re a little crowded right now.”
“That’s okay. We won’t need much room. You get started on him, and I’ll see to a work detail.”
An eyebrow ticked up on the doctor’s face, and she didn’t look happy. “Go away, sir. You can come back in two hours. He’ll be waiting for you.”
Seeton disappeared, and the doctor worked on the foot for a few minutes, then wrapped it up. While she worked, she had the Chief of the Boat summoned. Trexler’s lower body was going into a tank when the Chief arrived.
“I need a portable restoration tank that will hold a foot. Can you provide one?”
“How portable? They’re pretty big.”
“He’s going into the operations center with it.”
“It’s pretty crowded in there. Let me give it some thought.”
“I’ve been given two hours.”
“That will be a little tight. I’ll see what I can do.”
When Trexler woke up two hours later, his lower body was encased in a tank. He looked around and realized he was in the main bay of sick bay. Lots of beds held wounded soldiers. Waverly was beside him, his head encased in bandages. Walters was on the other side of Waverly, covered by a sheet. He was up on one arm, watching Trexler.
