Chapter 37. The Battle of TempiP45XS
The Battle of TempiP45XS
Joanni always played for the wounded crew to comfort them; she wouldn’t stop now, even though she would have to use the imposter clesig she was given at the return of the “Eight of the Origins” ceremony, even though she had not held it since it was given to her. As there would always be battles, so too would there always be caretakers of the casualties of those battles. She would not forsake the role. She took the unfamiliar instrument and went down to sickbay. The walls around the broken and injured, around the dying, closed in against her as she strummed and softly sang. Claustrophobia, her old friend, had reared its head again on her return to the Eridanus. She had been a participant in this scene of battle scarring and recuperation too many times; she felt confined, constricted by it. It increased her empathy for the young Oreanian girls and their obsessive habit of jumping up into the air, bouncing up and down, releasing themselves from the continuous pull of gravity. And vicariously releasing the longstanding pain in those viewing them sympathetically.
The battle with the Parsygians had been quick, but costly: Lt. Netsky and his crew lost; fatalities in Cartography and the Planetary Sciences lab that took the full force of the initial blast; port shield #8 buckled and jammed; and there were scattered casualties and power damage in Auxiliary Navigation. Unlike the Oreanians, the Parsygians maintained an imposing military battery of armed space vessels and long range missiles, the latter able to hit the ISEA ship even on its revised route out of the galaxy. The Eridanus won this particular skirmish, eventually regaining power, turning hard about and firing an energy barrage at the attacking fighter spacecraft, providing cover for the Nova 9 to return through the entry bay before the great galaxyship winged out at warp speed away from TempiP45XS.
Her captain remained wary, however, thinking these foes had given up too easily. Why was there no pursuit? Chipman was not convinced this was a lasting victory. He himself stood in need of caregiving, in need of relief from his anguish at the loss of crew and from his chagrin and self-reproach at the ability of the Parsygians to successfully surprise and ambush ‘the best run ship in the ISEA fleet’. He needed to do better and was plunged into deep thought about the best way of accomplishing that. Far too many had been lost on this damn mission. He would personally contact the families of each fallen crewmember. It was both an honor and deeply depressing.
“The battle’s over, but it’s still going on in your head,” Joanni told him as she entered his quarters with coffee and a small meal. Chipman sipped at the coffee, but ignored the food. He remained silent. “How did you restore power so quickly?” she asked.
“Matulis. Worth his weight in gold.”
Joanni sat down across from him and pushed the plate toward him. He shook his head. She could see he was in a dark place, probably blaming himself, and she wanted to be a light—not to banish that darkness; the heavy responsibility was an integral part of command, she understood that—but to merely counterbalance it for a few moments. “You know, a lot of people think they love you because you supposedly always win. I love you on those rare occasions when you don’t win.”
As she had hoped, Chipman shook off his burden for a second and smiled. He realized how precious she was to him, and how she made things better simply by being there and believing in him. Her hand was still resting on the desk by his dinner plate, and he put his hand over hers, squeezing it lightly.
Joanni should have been satisfied with this, but fears about her own future rose up to take the place of her concern for her captain. She had taken action on Brennan’s advice and had started to petition ISEA for a commission as a cultural attaché aboard an ISS vessel. In doing so, she had learned that being rewarded with such an assignment would require successfully completing a six-month training course back on Earth. Her face fell at the thought.
“Now what’s wrong?” Tom asked.
“Nothing,” she said.
After a few days’ time, some of the less badly injured crew were able to leave sickbay and return to limited duty. Mental equilibrium was beginning to be restored; the crew were on their way back home, a fact most regarded with a mixture of anticipation and relief. Coming full circle, the ISS Eridanus was scheduled to stop at Border Starbase 19 for repairs and debarking, marking the official end of Operation Tarrash.
Image: The battle never fully over. Source: Black and white detail of “Battle of Germany, 1944,” by Paul Nash via The Public Domain Review. Public domain. Edited by J. Weigley