Huber opened his mouth to speak, but a croaky and coarse voice growled at the door.
"No one lays a finger on Sergeant Jafar, and nobody questions his loyalty."
They turned to see that it was General White. He was supporting himself with a crutch. He had a dressing around his head and his other arm in a sling. He limped into the room, and it was clear that he was in agony. Only his raw determination kept him going forward.
"Glad to see you up on your feet, General," said Huber.
Taylor immediately got up and offered White his seat, which he gladly took.
"Didn't know you'd made it, Sir."
"There's fight in me yet, Taylor."
White got as comfortable as he could and then finally glared at Bletchley.
"You were saying?" he finally asked.
Bletchley grumbled and coughed to clear his throat. "I was merely posing the question that..."
He stopped on seeing the look White was giving him.
"Good," replied White, "I am glad that is resolved. Taylor?"
"Yes, Sir."
"You have your orders, and you are in command, remember! You can't do it all, or you'll end up looking like me."
"Impossible," he replied with a smile.
"Delegate, Colonel. It is your responsibility to ensure it is done, not to do it yourself. Delegate and then get some rest. That's an order, you hear?"
"Aye, aye, Sir."
They looked back to Huber for direction.
"Right now, this is about consolidation," he stated, "Repair any damage to the ships, and give care to the wounded. Clear all enemy presence, and get everything on the top line. You all know what you have to do."
Taylor got up to leave and noticed Admiral Huang heading quickly for the door. He raced to keep up with him.
"Admiral Huang, Sir?"
Huang turned to acknowledge him but did not stop so that the two carried on walking side by side.
"What can I do for you, Colonel?"
"Sir, I wanted to ask you something?"
"Go on."
"Would you have fired on the Washington or her support vessels? Would you really have fired on the fleet because of a dispute over command?"
"I am not sure that it matters anymore, Colonel, for that time has been and gone. What concern is it of yours?"
"I just want to know who I can rely on when the shit hits the fan. Because if you’re the kind of back stabber who would fire on his own people, then you're no better than the Krys agents who could turn on you at a moment's notice."
Huang suddenly stopped, and Taylor could see his was utterly shocked that anyone had dared speak to him in such a way.
"Are you questioning my loyalty?"
"Yes I am," Taylor replied sternly, "I've dealt with enough shit from enough people to know I need people at my back who I can rely on. I know I can rely on Admiral Huber and General White. Sometimes they can be sons of bitches, but that's okay. So are you the kind of officer who can be a son of a bitch or a real murdering bastard?"
Huang didn't know how to respond.
"Here's how it's gonna be. I'll respect your rank and command while you act in a manner deserving of it. The moment you turn on our people, and I do mean our people, by that I mean every person in this fleet, I will end you."
Taylor then carried onward and left Huang standing speechless in the corridor. As Taylor walked away, he heard Huber step up to the man and say, "You listen to Taylor. Many men haven't and paid the price."
Taylor didn't want to pick a fight. He only hoped his comments would be enough to keep Huang in line. The loss of his own people that day made him truly appreciate how valuable all their lives were, and how they could not afford to fight one another. He walked on down to the galley to get some much-needed food. As he entered, he could see Eli Parker sitting alone and deep in thought. So much so, she didn't even notice his presence.
He simply stood and watched her for a moment. Her shirt had a long line of stitches where she had recently repaired it. Her hair was tied back, and a cut on her forehead was covered over with a small dressing. Her knuckles were red from the chafing of her gloves, and yet he looked down to see her boots were polishing to a mirror finish. Every attention she had made to keep up her presentation, despite the raggedness it could not conceal. It brought a smile to his face that she tried so hard. But he wondered then if it was simply training kicking in or if she really cared.
Somebody paced up beside him and stopped shoulder to shoulder. He turned to see that it was Major Moye.
"You care about your people more than I was led to believe," he stated, "I judged you by your reputation."
"Really? And what is that?"
"Many things, and some that are true, but I was led to believe you threw away life for your own personal glory. I see now that is not the case."
He offered out his hand, and Taylor gladly accepted it.
"How are your people doing, Major?" he asked.
He shook his head. "Not good. I've got thirty-eight left of a Company. Maybe a few more will recover. Look at me, a Major in charge of a platoon."
"Been there, and it's not a happy place. We all paid a heavy price today, your people more than most. I won't lie. We aren't a lot better off ourselves. I would offer you a position within my Regiment, but the truth is, we need competent combat officers such as yourself. We need field officers."
"But with so little left to command?"
"It's time to replenish the ranks, Major. We've got three million people in this fleet. The vast majority are civilians. Many are needed for vital occupations, but a lot are not. It's time we started recruiting and getting some fresh blood into our ranks."
"And you think we can do it? You think we can train up a new generation? I have so many losses I need to replenish, that by the time I were through, I would not recognise my own Company. They would be greener than you can imagine."
"Not with us to guide them. We don't have a choice in the matter. Train up new fighters or simply run out. Come on, join me."
He went forward and took a seat before Parker. As she looked up and saw him, her face suddenly lit up as if all colour was restored to it. Within a second of sitting down, a plate of food was slid before him from Abbot who took a seat beside him and several others the other side. It was like a family sitting down for their meal just as it always had been, and that gave Taylor hope.
Chapter 9
Becker looked like a stone statue as he stood opposite Kelly. They were listening to the other officers bicker and argue over the next course of action.
"Captain, what do you think?" one of them asked Becker.
He finally turned and looked at the man.
"I want them to suffer."
That was all he said.
"Now we're talking," replied Kelly, "You, what was your name again?" he asked the man who had finally drawn a word from Becker.
"Lieutenant Oster."
"And you?" he asked as he pointed at the next one.
"Lieutenant Thalberg."
He only looked at the last, expecting him to answer.
Lieutenant Decker."
"You're all tank commanders, is that right?" Kelly asked.
They nodded in acknowledgement.
"So, without meaning any offence. You have fought the wars from the confines of armoured vehicles in squadrons of what, hundreds of other vehicles in regular formations, and taking orders from a central command? What the hell do you know about fighting a guerrilla war?"
"How dare you..." Decker began.
"No!" Becker shouted and slammed his fist down on the table.
They were silenced.
"Kelly is right. It doesn't lessen what any of us have done these past years, but he does highlight a major flaw in our knowledge and abilities to take on this kind of fight."