She studied the display for a long moment. The enemy was running out of targets. Perhaps she could try to lure them into a trap? William’s idea of using decoys to fake superdreadnoughts might work, if the enemy was sensitive to losses. Or even using one real superdreadnought per system, with a handful of decoys. If the enemy had only three superdreadnoughts left, they wouldn’t want to face even a single superdreadnought. She was fairly sure that one of her superdreadnoughts could take two of theirs.
And even if we’re wrong, they’ll know they’ve been in a fight, she thought. They might win the battle, but lose the war.
Fran cleared her throat. “Admiral, I know you didn’t want to discuss politics, but . . . what happens if we’re ordered to withdraw?”
“We’ll deal with that when it comes,” Kat said. She could fudge a little, when her orders allowed her a little discretion, but a direct order to withdraw could not be disobeyed. The StarCom network she’d set up, with the best of intentions, would make it harder to delay matters. “Right now, we have too many other things to do.”
She looked down at the table. “I won’t deny that this . . . incident . . . has been a major blow,” she added. “But as Wheeler says, it may be their last gasp. We can weaken them, we will weaken them . . . If nothing else, they have to be hitting some pretty hard limits now.”
“I believe so,” Fran said. “I don’t believe that anyone, even us, could keep three superdreadnoughts running indefinitely without a proper shipyard.”
Kat forced herself to remain calm. “We calculated that the ships would be defunct by now and their crews dead of atmospheric poisoning,” she reminded her friend. “We need to be very careful about making assumptions.”
She looked up. “General, stay behind,” she added. “Everyone else, dismissed.”
“The disaster did bring a lot of rats out of the woodpile,” General Winters said. “We might even be getting a grip on the situation.”
Kat met his eyes. “Enough?”
“It’s hard to be sure,” Winters said, bluntly. “The real masterminds rarely show themselves openly, let alone take part in attacks. They have cannon fodder for that, Admiral. Young men who have no jobs, no wives, no hopes . . . they go out and they get themselves blown away while the real bastards continue to plot and plan. But right now, we are making rapid progress on blowing their networks wide open. They may already have realized that coming out of the woodwork has been a mistake.”
“Understood,” Kat said. “Keep the pressure on.”
“We will,” Winters said. “But Admiral . . . all this talk of withdrawal is making people nervous. Every man who signed up with us, every woman who went into one of the refugee camps . . . they’re all scared about what will happen if we withdraw. Will they be left behind to face their former friends? And believe me, Admiral, the enemy is using their fears as part of a propaganda exercise. We may see the stream of informers and volunteers begin to dry up if they’re allowed to continue.”
And so the politicians make life harder for us, Kat thought. Can’t they see beyond their noses?
She remembered the words she’d exchanged with her brother and scowled. The dukes were supposed to look to the future, but Peter was more interested in the corporation than in Tyre itself, let alone the Commonwealth. And the MPs were more interested in winning reelection than in winning the war. They’d vote for immediate withdrawal if they thought the action would please their constituents. She had no doubt they’d come up with a way to justify their behavior to themselves.
“All we can do is keep going,” Kat said. “And, if we are ordered to withdraw, to take our allies with us.”
Winters met her eyes. “The logistics will be hell, Admiral. Where do we put them?”
Kat shook her head, wordlessly. None of the liberated worlds would want a few hundred thousand more refugees. Taking them to the far side of the Gap wouldn’t be any better. She doubted that anyone would want them. There were too many horror stories about refugees who’d picked up bad habits.
“I’ll think of something,” she said. “General, I . . .”
Her wristcom bleeped. She keyed it. “Go ahead?”
“Admiral, you have a priority-one StarCom call,” Kitty said. “I’ve transferred it to your office.”
“I’ll be there in a moment,” Kat said. She felt cold. Normally, StarCom calls were planned ahead of time, but this one was a surprise. Was she about to be ordered to withdraw? Or . . . She’d find out soon enough. “General, duty calls.”
“I understand,” Winters said. “Good luck.”
Kat nodded and hurried down the corridor to her office. The marines standing guard outside saluted as she approached, although she was fairly sure they’d have preferred to be on the front lines instead. Pat had told her, more than once, that guard duty wasn’t his favorite duty. She made a mental note to ask for her guards to be rotated. Their skills would start to atrophy if they spent all their time inside the compound.
She stepped through the door and closed it behind her, then turned to the terminal and blinked. The Royal Crest was clearly displayed, just waiting for her to press her finger against the sensor and confirm her identity. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, put a note on her wristcom that she would be busy until further notice, then sat down at the desk and tapped the terminal. The king’s face appeared in front of her a second later.
“Kat,” he said. “It’s good to see you again.”
“And you, Your Majesty,” Kat said automatically. “I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.”
“It is of no concern,” the king said. “You’re hundreds of light-years away.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Kat said. She’d known officers and politicians who would take it as a personal affront if someone didn’t answer their calls at once, even if they were on the other side of the planet. “I assume this isn’t a
