We’d take a bite out of them, she thought. She was fairly sure that one of her superdreadnoughts could take on two enemy ships at once. But we might well lose our superdreadnought in the engagement.
She dismissed the thought with an angry grunt as she keyed her console. “Major Harris, you are authorized to land,” she said. “Coordinate your relief efforts with the planetary government”—such as it is—“and . . . and do everything you can for them.”
“Aye, Admiral,” Major Harris said. “Do you have a timescale?”
“Not as yet,” Kat admitted. She gritted her teeth in annoyance. There was no way she could give the marines a definite leaving time. “But we’ll be here for at least two days.”
“Aye, Admiral.”
Kat sighed as she closed the connection. It wasn’t enough to help the planet. It wasn’t anything like enough. They’d barely scratch the surface of what needed to be done. But they had to try.
Unless we pull the marines out in a couple of days, because we have to go elsewhere, Kat thought as she brought up a starchart. The enemy could be hitting another world right now.
She considered the problem for a long moment, silently reflecting on the irony. It was what she’d done, three years ago. And now she was on the receiving end.
Too many possible targets, she told herself. And yet, too many of them are effectively worthless.
Her thoughts ran in circles. But the conclusion was inescapable. There was no way she’d be able to catch the enemy, save by sheer luck. Trying to shadow them back to their base might work, given time, but she knew that idea was a long shot. Unless, of course, she managed to bait a trap. A couple of ideas had already occurred to her.
“Detail one of the courier boats to take a copy of the engagement records back to Ahura Mazda,” she ordered. “And then detail three of the remaining boats to alert everyone within fifty light-years. I want every liberated world to be taking precautions.”
“Aye, Admiral,” the communications officer said.
Kat sighed. It wasn’t enough, and she knew it. But it was all she could do until she got reinforcements.
And if the last report from home is any indication, she thought, I’ll be lucky if I don’t get half my ships taken away.
Millicent Barbara had always admired the sheer resilience of the planet’s population. Judd hadn’t been an easy world to tame, back when the colony ship had first landed, and then they’d spent a decade under the Theocracy’s iron heel. They’d bounced back after the liberation; they’d repaired their cities, settled new farms, and even started a long-term plan to develop the remainder of their star system. She’d thought nothing could keep them down.
But now, looking at the men and women in the makeshift refugee camp, she wondered if the Theocracy had finally broken the planet’s population. A handful of refugees had volunteered to assist the militia and aid workers, but the remainder were just sitting there as if they expected to be fed and watered like animals. They didn’t even have the entitlement she’d come to hate on Ahura Mazda, the belief that they had a right to be given food and drink without payment. She shuddered as she saw the listless eyes and unmoving bodies. They didn’t even have the drive to pick up the pieces and start again.
She shook her head, morbidly, as she saw a pair of shuttles come in to land. The Royal Marines had been helpful, but there was little they could do. There just weren’t enough supplies to feed the refugees. And even if they had enough, now, soon they would run out completely. She had no idea what would happen then, but she didn’t think it would be pretty. The local farmers were already grumbling about supplying food to the refugee camps. It wouldn’t be long before they either ran out or refused to supply any more.
And it’s only been seven days, she thought. What will happen when winter comes?
“Millie,” Dave called. “There’s someone here you need to see.”
Millicent followed his gaze . . . and froze. The young woman walking towards her, surrounded by a trio of marines, was one of the most famous people in the Commonwealth. Kat Falcone looked even younger than Millicent had realized, going by the newscasts; she would have taken the woman for someone in her early twenties if she hadn’t known that Kat Falcone was a decade older. Blonde hair, cropped closer to her scalp; a dazzling white uniform . . . she looked good, but there was something haunted in her eyes.
Millicent understood, better than she cared to admit. The Commonwealth had failed Judd.
“Admiral Falcone,” she said, suddenly unsure how to address their visitor. “I’m Millicent Barbara. Welcome to the camp.”
“Thank you,” Kat Falcone said. “What’s the situation?”
“Grim,” Millicent said as they walked around the edge of the camp. “Most of the refugees have lost the will to do anything, even to live. They’re just sitting around and waiting to die.”
Kat shot her a sharp look. “You can’t find them work? Something to do with their time?”
Millicent snorted. “There’s no shortage of work,” she assured her. “But the will to actually do it is lacking.”
She waved a hand towards the nearest tent. “Everyone here went to the city to build new lives for themselves, lives that were just snatched away a week ago. They’ve lost partners and children, friends and coworkers . . . they’ve simply given up. They might go back to work if they were starved, which is what may happen in the next week or so, or they might simply lie down
