asteroid swinging around the planet.
First one, then several of her laser and particle beam weapons began firing ineffectually at the huge boulder. However, Jonas had evidently learned something from the destruction of Dauntless. Despite the continuing attacks of our ships, he launched a missile. When that one was intercepted and destroyed by an armed boat, he fired another, and our sensors detected that Nemesis’ inertial drives were powering up.
The second missile impacted the asteroid with a tremendous nuclear flash. Jonas’ gunner wasn't stupid. He’d known he couldn’t destroy the asteroid; he’d aimed the missile to deflect it, and it had worked.
Unfortunately, he had deflected the asteroid away from the planet, in the only direction that Nemesis could have taken to break orbit. It was only when the asteroid moved relative to the ship that Jonas could see the second asteroid, some five seconds behind the first. There was no time to maneuver, no time to launch another missile.
A kilometer-sized ship is huge; but a kilometer-sized boulder is just as huge and much denser. Nemesis ’ shields were never designed to handle impacts of that magnitude; they burned out in microseconds. The boulder pushed more than halfway through the dreadnought, whose remains appeared simply pasted to its front.
The impact had slowed the boulder, though. Its orbit began to decay, and I yelled for the boats to nudge it away from Haven. A swarm of boats flocked around the boulder, pushing frantically to keep it from falling into Haven’s atmosphere, while others diverted the remaining two asteroids. They succeeded, but the remains of Nemesis slipped from the front of the rock, and became a blazing smear across Haven’s sky. Only a few charred pieces have ever been recovered.
And that quickly, the battle of Haven was over. At least, the fighting was.
The dismal job of cleaning up the aftermath of the battle continued for days. Once the shock of watching Nemesis ’ end as a shooting star on Haven faded, I’d dispatched a privateer to report and to fetch back Cord. Most of my part of the job was finished. Now his part began in earnest.
The casualty reports were appalling. Over five thousand men and women had died with Nemesis, including, of course, Rear Admiral Micah Jonas and Captain Jamin Van-Lyn. Three thousand more had died aboard Dauntless. Surprisingly, forty-seven people had been found alive aboard Dauntless, trapped in sealed compartments that had not been holed.
Ninety-two of our hundred-twenty four armed mining boats had been destroyed. Six of those pilots had managed to trigger their emergency beacons, and were recovered alive, but we didn’t stop until we’d recovered as much of each body as possible. That gave us a casualty rate of just over sixty-nine percent for the boats, an appalling rate.
Relentless had two hundred seventy-six dead and a hundred thirty-four wounded. She was once more under control, but it would take months of effort even with Thaeron's facilities to make her a combat vessel once more. Predator had suffered thirty-four dead and six wounded. Sri Bendo was recovering from decompression effects suffered when his bridge was hit.
Fourteen of the thirty-two privateers with whom we’d entered combat had been lost, a casualty rate of over forty percent. Cord had his victory. I hoped it was worth the cost. Suited men carefully examined every bit of debris looking for bodies or wounded — especially wounded.
When they were found, wounded were rushed to Relentless. As soon as they could be stabilized in her sickbay, they were evacuated to hospitals on Haven.
Cord arrived, and lost no time grounding on Haven and crowing about our victory. I remembered a line of ancient poetry I’d encountered at the staff college: ‘Another such victory and I am undone!’
Chapter XV
Unfortunately, it didn’t take Cord long to learn that I’d been hiding out on Valkyrie, refusing to go down to the planet and ducking dozens of well-wishers, hangers-on and social invitations.
“Buck up, Admiral,” he instructed. “You’ve had your battle. Now you have to face the music.”
“I’d rather face another dreadnought!”
He grinned. “I’m sure you would. Unfortunately, you’re not being offered that option.” He sobered. “Consider it a duty of your rank, Admiral. Consider it anything you want — but get down here and start hero-ing!”
I cast about desperately. “Uh, I have to plan for an assault on Thaeron, sir.”
He shook his head. “Won’t work, Admiral. Thaeron will wait. They no longer have any offensive capability. They can just wait until you get around to them.” He leaned close to the vid and pointed his finger at me. “Now, get down here and let them make you a hero!” He started to cut off, and then paused. He looked at me with pity.
“I will offer you a piece of advice, Admiral. You possess the unfortunate characteristic of being unattached. You’d be much safer if you were life-mated. Since you aren’t, I’d suggest that you comb your fleet for an unattached female that can accompany you and keep the sharks away. Otherwise, you won’t get a moment’s peace.”
I sighed. “How long will you give me, sir?”
He grinned again. “One day, no more. Don’t try to stall me, Admiral. I’ve already heard that you have a young lady aboard that.. ah… interests you. Bring her along, and get down here!” He cut the connection, which was fortunate. I could feel my face warming.
I agonized for an hour before summoning up the duty roster and learning that Suli was off duty. I temporized for another half-hour in desperation before taking my courage in both hands and heading for her cabin.
She answered the door in that same maroon robe I’d seen before-but this time, it was obvious that there was nothing under it but Suli. I almost forgot why I’d come.
She looked surprised at seeing me. “Why, Admiral!”
Heat flared in my face. “Uh… Ms Fjolking… I… uh.. I need your help. May I come in?”
She purpled and those beautiful eyes widened in panic. Then, suddenly, the flush faded and the eyes steadied. She stepped backward. “Of course, Admiral. Please come in.” That blinding smile flashed.
I stepped in and she closed the door. The cabin was tiny. A single chair and minuscule desk occupied a cubbyhole opposite her bunk. Everything was perfectly orderly. The cabin hardly looked lived-in. “Have a seat, Admiral,” she said, grinning.
“Thank you, but I’ll stand,” I said firmly. Sitting would mean one of us sitting on the bunk.
She shrugged and sat down… on the bunk. “Well, Admiral, what can I do for you?”
“Well, I uh… The Viceroy has ordered me down to Haven. I have to let them make a hero out of me.” My face warmed again.
“Good.” she said firmly. “It’s about time, and highly deserved, too!”
I felt myself flush again. “Come on, Suli, you were here. You know I was no hero. The heroes were out there.” I waved vaguely.
She sniffed. “Too right, I was here. Sure, there were heroes out there. But there was a hero in here, too.” The passion faded from her face, to be replaced by puzzlement. “But what’s that got to do with me? You said you needed my help.”
I writhed in embarrassment. “Well, you see, I’ve been flooded with invitations to social events-dinners and the like. I’ve been ducking them, but the Viceroy caught me, and he’s insisting that I begin attending them.”
She just regarded me silently. “You see, He… uh… I, Oh Sheol! Cord suggested that I arrange for a female to accompany me to these events, to keep me from being bothered by a bunch of women!”
She collapsed in a paroxysm of laughter. My acute embarrassment began to fade into resentment. “Excuse me,” I said stiffly, “I’m sorry I bothered you.” I started for the door, but she put her hand on my arm.
“Please,” she said between peals of laughter. “Don’t leave!” She began to sober as she saw my irritation. “I’m sorry,” she said gently. “I really am. I wasn’t laughing at you. It was just the…” She suppressed a giggle before continuing, “It was just the idea that the great Admiral Val Kedron, Savior of the Rim, Commander of thousands, needs me to protect him from predator females!” She trailed off into more gales of laughter. I began to see the humor in the situation myself, and in a moment, we were both howling. As our laughter began to fade, she added, “me, a Frejan!” and we both roared again. It took several minutes for us to regain our composure.
“All right, Admiral,” she finally said. “Exactly what is it you want me to do?”
My face grew warm again. “Well, uh, just go with me to these dinners and things… and… uh… pretend that
