Operation Orion - Kevin Dockery [119]
He appointed Senior Lieutenant Brown as acting captain and asked him to get the big craft up and running. Lieutenant Wesling took charge of the passengers, most of whom were lower-level functionaries who had come along as assistants to the diplomats and brass-encrusted military people who had been assigned as delegates to the now-defunct conference. Those folks went to work cleaning up the detritus of the recent battle.
The fight had been costly. Though the SEALS had emerged with only a few bumps and bruises, ten of the navy personnel, including three of Grafton’s drop boat crew, had made the ultimate sacrifice. Their bodies were set aside, frozen for later services, while the slain Eluoi were jettisoned into space.
Olin Parvik found the young SEALS lieutenant on the bridge as Sanders was finishing the final operation intended to restore the great ship to operability. “Have you gotten in touch with Captain Carstairs yet?” the Assarn pilot asked.
“I’m just about to do that,” Sanders replied. “Care to listen in? I suspect we could use a little more help from you, if you’re willing.”
“I’m in favor of anything that’s going to get under Tezlac Catal’s skin,” Parvik replied with a rather nasty smile. “Let’s see what the good captain has to say.”
With a veteran radio operator manning the console on the Pangaea’s bridge, it took only a few minutes to raise Carstairs in the CIC of the Pegasus. Sanders gave a concise account of the action aboard the big starship, confirming that the vessel had been restored to human control and that all systems were fully operational.
“Excellent work, Sandy.” The captain’s praise crackled through the earphones, and the young lieutenant couldn’t help feeling a flush of pride. “So you’ll be getting under way soon?”
“They tell me it’ll be any minute now, sir. I confess, I’m looking forward to feeling some gravity again.”
“I hear you. Mark a course for the frigate. My helmsman will give yours the coordinates. We’ll link up and stand off about a thousand klicks from the Bazaar.”
“Very good, sir. Has there been any word from Lieutenant Jackson?” the SEALS officer asked.
“He’d been out of touch for some time, but he came through not ten minutes ago,” the captain replied, to Sanders’s considerable relief. “He says that he’s found the prisoners on the Bazaar, and has a plan to get them out of confinement. But we’ll need to coordinate a pickup or they’ll be standing around at the docking bay and won’t have much of a chance.”
“Roger that, sir. Olin Parvik is here. Do you want to bring him in on this?”
“By all means. Parvik? Thanks for all your help already. I’m going to put you in for an auxiliary medal of some kind or other. Can you do one more thing for us?”
“I already told Sandy that I’d be happy to help,” the pilot replied.
“Excellent. For the time being, put your feet up and enjoy the ride back to the Pegasus. Once we get into formation, I’m going to ask you to take that shuttle right up to the dock of the space station. If all goes well, Stonewall Jackson will meet you there with a group of passengers who will be looking for a ride home.”
It was twelve minutes later when Jackson emerged from the communications booth for the second time, having just gotten off the line with Carstairs. Ruiz, Teal, and Baxter met him in the avenue of the Bazaar’s midlevel, and he immediately gave them the thumbs-up. “We’re good to go,” he explained. “Parvik is on his way to the station with a shuttle and should be docking within the next hour. By that time our radios should be capable of local communication with him, so we’ll know exactly where to go.”
Since his initial