“Well, then we needed to start evacuating yesterday morning,” said Dale Ramsey, who was seated next to Trainer. Ramsey was the unit’s chief surgeon: a small, bantam-rooster of a man with a thatch of fiery red hair. “The OR’s hopping. I can barely keep up, and my patients are packed tighter than sardines in post-op. If you’re really serious about evacuation, then we need to start sending people out now.”
The colonel sighed. “I wish it was that simple. The reality is that Command won’t spare us the transports because they’re already in use.” There was a general buzz of conversation around the table, and the colonel raised a hand. “Hold on, people. There’s more. The scuttlebutt is that the retreat’s already begun. Happened last night, under cover of darkness. A splinter of the Twenty-Third peeled off south, and they’re about ten klicks away now and going fast. There’s still a forward unit, a token force on the volcano spearheading the offensive against McDonald, but they’re spread thin. And the bad news is we stay put, right smack dab in the middle.”
“To fight another day?” asked Ramsey. His tone indicated just what he thought of that plan. “What, we’re the bait? The sacrificial lambs?”
The colonel bobbed his head. “That’s about the size of it. We run for it, and the Eleventh might suspect that we’re not throwing all our man- and firepower at them here. Call it a diversionary last stand. We’ve got lots of wounded, plus anyone we can get well enough to send back to the forward line, so we can keep things looking pretty darned busy. By the time the Eleventh gets here and figures out that we’re not actually shooting, Command’s betting that we’ll have bought the splinter group time. So, in the end, Command will have conserved their healthiest soldiers and gotten them the hell out of here.”
“While we do what?” asked Trainer.
“Our jobs,” said the colonel. “No matter what, we’ve got to stay put. We’ve got patients to tend to who can’t be moved. They need us.”
“We need back-up,” Ramsey said. “And some firepower would be nice. I don’t much like the idea of defending my patients with a laser pistol, or serving as target practice for some Banshee. And what about that nice big Zeus? We’ve got all that power out there and no one here qualified to pilot it. Are you telling me Command’s going to leave it behind?” When the colonel nodded, Ramsey blew out in exasperation. “Well, Christ Almighty, then how about sending a MechWarrior our way?”
“No can do. In a more normal war, where we had a bit more time, didn’t have to cut and run, what with Command trying to cover Victor’s tracks, maybe. Hell,” the colonel exhaled a laugh, “can’t believe I even said that. Whatever flavor war you call it a soldier ends up just as dead. Anyway, I can’t argue with you, Ramsey. ´Mechs are damn valuable, we all know that. But Command’s pulling out so fast they can’t even spare time to button their flies, much less hustle a pilot our way. And you, Ramsey, will defend your patients with your trusty laser pistol only if you are fired upon. No one engages anyone except in defense of a patient, got it?” The colonel gave each of the medical staff a hard stare. “I know this is a tough one to swallow, but you’ll do your jobs, I know that. Now, everybody, go get some sleep. Dismissed,” he said, and then added, “All except you, Major Trainer. The rest of you can go.”
Ramsey shot her a look with raised eyebrows. Trainer responded with a slight hike of her shoulders. The colonel waited until the others had filed out, then closed the door to the command conference room.
“Sir?” she said, standing with her hands clasped behind her back. Not quite at attention, but not at ease either.
The colonel waved a hand. “Sit back down, Liz,” he said, sliding into a chair himself. She did. He gave a slight groan. “God, I’m getting too old for this. Okay, Liz,” he rubbed at his face, “I’m going to give it to you straight. We’re going to lose this in a big way. My own assessment. Command thinks they can salvage something? Christ, they’re dreaming. This won’t be the last stand, but it’s probably the second-to-last.”
She’d half expected this, but now that the words had been said—really out in the open—she felt her heart go numb and a feeling of something cold as glacial ice settle into the pit of her stomach. “If that’s true, why are we staying? Why not say to hell with it and evacuate now?”
“Because we haven’t gotten the go-ahead, for one, but that’s not a real reason. Hell, I’d move us in a heartbeat if I could, but we don’t have the people-movers, nothing that can really get us out of here, pronto, and I’m not leaving one of our patients behind.”
“What about DropShips?”
“Already asked, already declined.” He chafed his biceps with both hands. “I think that the simple truth of the matter is that if these soldiers are too banged up to fight, then Command’s going to call it a loss and keep on going.”
“So we’re written off? But what about our patients? They’re not statistics. They’re men and women!”
“They’re casualties, Liz. We all are. It’s damage control, pure and simple. You want to stop hemorrhaging, you got to control whatever’s bleeding you dry. Well, we’re bleeding out men and materiel on this offensive. Command’s not going to pour more resources into this end of the Twenty-Third, that’s all there is to it. They’ve calculated the odds and figured it’s better to cut their losses.”
“And leave us behind, with nowhere to go,” said Trainer, bitterly.
“Like I said, chances are McDonald’s forces are going to march in here and take us all prisoner. Good for
