A Faded Star (35 page)

 “Mister Kri, I want you to break off and pursue Miss
Simmons. She commandeered the science corvette and has vanished through a jump
ring.”

 “Are you sure, sir? I mean, the crabs are making a run
at Lashmere.”

 “I'm going to deploy Behemoth to cover Lashmere. We'll
harass the crabs as they approach the planet. We've inflicted such heavy losses
that we're at near parity. We still have a few surprises up our sleeves.”

 “Aye, sir. I'm breaking formation now. I'll be in
touch.”

 The screen switched back to the tactical display.
Stokes watched as the icon for Damocles vanished. The crabs re-massed into a
single formation and began driving towards Lashmere. “Miss Woodard, signal to
Behemoth.”

 Commodore Erickson's face appeared on the screen a
moment later. “Yes, sir?” Her soprano voice was strained, and her hair was
straggled across her features.

 “How are you fairing, Commodore?”

 “Well enough, sir. We've just spent the last three
days snatching five million people out of their homes and bundled them into
thirty-eight cubic meters of space each. None of them are particularly happy.
What can I do for you, sir?”

 “I want you to make a tactical jump to Lashmere orbit.
Block the crab approach.”

 “Aye, sir. I'll be ready to reposition in three
minutes.”

 “Very well. Stokes out.”

 The Victorious joined up with the remaining ships from
Misato's command, and they started harassing the spinward flank of the crabs.
The exchanges of fire were brutal, and ships fell out of formation on both
sides. Stokes watched patiently as the Behemoth slowly moved into position to
make its jump. The ring formed and Behemoth started moving through it. Bendel
said, “Sir, there's no exit ring near Lashmere.”

 “What?”

 “Look, sir. Behemoth is entering a jump ring just like
it's supposed to but there's no corresponding jump ring near Lashmere. At this range,
we should be able to view both points of the jump.” Bendel gestured at his
tactical plot.

 “Emergency message to Commodore Erickson. Abort jump!”

 “It's too late, sir. The ring is already closing.
Where could they have gone?”

 “There's no time to consider it, now. Put me through
to the other six battleships. We'll assume Behemoth's position and take local
control of all the orbital drone platforms. The remaining ships are to form
under their individual cruiser commands and continue to chase the crabs in.”
Stokes waited patiently for a few seconds as the point to point drive started
coming online. He turned to Bendel and said, “We just became the anvil,
commander. I hope we're up to it.”

 “Sir?”

 “Look at the formation, Commander. The crabs have
formed into a broad, wedge shaped formation designed to protect their heaviest
ships from attack as they bored in to strike Lashmere itself. The cruiser
groups are dodging in and out, taking out their support ships as fast as they
can, but there isn't time to completely whittle down their numbers. They simply
have too many ships. With the added firepower of the battleships, we could
probably have stopped them short of Lashmere, but now, we can't let them hit
Lashmere directly. We have to break off and provide the last line of defense
for everyone still on the planet.”

 “Maybe the Behemoth will come back, sir. It could just
have been a poorly calculated jump.”

 “Perhaps, but we can't base our strategy on maybe. We
have to defend Lashmere.”

 “I understand, sir.” He looked at the jump timer and
said, “Jumping in thirty seconds, sir.”

 “Very well. You may jump as calculated.”

 “Jump as calculated, aye, sir. Helm, jump as
calculated.”

 The helm acknowledged and slid the jump lever smoothly
into the interlock socket. The plot updated and showed all six battleships in
formation over Lashmere.

 “Good piloting, everyone. Well done,” Stokes picked up
a mike for the general announcing circuit. “We have thirty minutes before the
crabs enter weapons range. Make emergency repairs and get ready for close
action. All Marines are to don combat armor and retrieve small arms for
possible boarders. This is all going to be over in the next hour, everyone.
Keep doing what you've been doing so far, and we will win the day. For Lashmere
and the future of humanity. Stokes out.” He put the mike down and turned to see
everyone on the bridge smiling back at him. He nodded briskly and turned his
attention back to the main plot.

 Of twenty-two assault cruisers and their flotillas of
destroyers that had been sniping the crabs on their approach when the
battleships had jumped, only fifteen remained battle ready by the time the
crabs entered weapons range. There were still over five hundred crab ships. The
numbers weren't good.

 “Combat launch all drones from the platforms and our
internal launch bays, Mister Lokin,” Stokes ordered.

 “Aye, sir,” Lokin responded. His words still came out
unnaturally fast. His fingers darted across the console, assigning offensive
and defensive roles to the various groups the Victorious had taken control of.

 “Sir,” Bendel said, “A formation of crabs has broken
off and is moving towards the space dock.

 “Order the remaining support ships to depart the area
immediately.”

 “Aye, sir.”

 A small group of icons flashed out of existence a
moment later.

 “Have Chimera's and Drake's formations make tactical
jumps to deal with that group of crabs that broke off of the main group,”
Stokes said. “When they're done, they can move in behind us and provide close
support for the battleships.” Two cruiser groups was overkill for the small
group of crabs that had been intent on destroying the space dock. The orbital
installation had been evacuated before the crabs had arrived, but the structure
still represented millions of hours of construction effort, and if a large
piece broke free and re-entered the atmosphere of Lashmere, it could cause
widespread devastation.

 Lokin said, “The crabs stopped moving toward the space
dock and have begun bombarding the surface. Both cruiser groups are moving to
intercept.”

 “Very well. Interlock fields of fire with the other
battleships and begin targeting the lead crab ships.”

 “Aye, sir,” Lokin said. “Sir, crab formation is
changing. They've split into two groups and are maneuvering outside our weapons
range. Both forces are preparing to attack the surface.”

 “No! Break formation. Move the battleships up to
defend the areas of the planet under attack.”

 “Sir, if we move in the way you suggest, we will
surely be destroyed,” Bendel said.

 “There's no help for it, Commander. We can't let
millions of civilians die while we safely strafe along the rear of the crab
formation. Now give me flank speed to put us between the crabs and Lashmere.”
When Bendel hesitated, he said, “Now, mister, or I'll find an officer who obeys
orders.”

 Bendel gave himself a shake and then said, “Aye, sir.
Helm, orbit Lashmere in formation with Grendel, Hydra, and Tiamat. Thor, Freya
and Gandhi are to maintain position between Lashmere and the other crab force.”

 The ships began to maneuver when the crabs reversed
themselves again, hammering the cruiser formations supporting the three
battleships led by Thor. Suddenly left with no other targets, the remaining one
hundred seventy ships sped inwards on the three battleships with a reckless
speed. The crab ships moved into a tight formation with heavily interlocked
fields of fire, virtually guaranteeing the destruction of all three
battleships. A series of massive explosions rippled through the crab formation,
taking out everything larger than an escort.

 “What just happened, Miss Woodard?”

 “It looks like the remaining ships were mined, sir.
Stealth corvettes are breaking from inside the remaining formation.”

 “Well done, Mister Patho,” Stokes said. “Bring the
drones from Thor's battleships around and send them on ramming runs against the
crabs coming down on us. I'm not concerned about preserving the drones for
future operations. We need to take out the rest of the crab ships as fast as
possible.”

 “Aye, sir. Transmitting orders, now,” Lokin said.

 The Victorious began to shake under the relentless
assault the crabs were hurling at it. Over two hundred ships broke against the
three battleships. Hydra exploded, taking several surrounding crab cruisers
with it.

 Thor, Freya, and Gandhi were completing their orbit to
provide relief from the withering fire, but it would take another four minutes
before they could bring their considerable weapons to bear. The remaining
eleven cruiser groups were all damaged, some of them with only a pair of
destroyers left to provide covering fire.

 “Miss Woodard, have the remaining cruiser groups
combine into a single defensive formation. Too many have lost their destroyer
escorts.”

 “Aye, sir. Sending the signal now, sir.”

 The cruisers grouped, and their defensive fire
intensified. The remaining hundred or so crab ships included two battleships, a
contingent of cruisers and over seventy escorts. As suddenly as they'd come,
the ships reversed their course and began to withdraw.

 As soon as the ships reversed their course, Stokes
felt himself slump into his command chair.

 “Shall we pursue, Admiral?” Bendel asked.

 “No. Take up defensive formation with the remaining
ships and start organizing search and rescue. Link up with the long range
sensor network and verify the crab maneuvers as they depart. If they depart.
Once the crabs have cleared twenty light minutes from Lashmere, signal the
support rings to jump back in and start providing relief to all damaged ships.”

 The crabs took nearly a day to leave the system. They
set a course that took them away from both Lashmere and Xalcek. At no point did
the crabs ever make an attempt to communicate with the humans. Search ships
were sent out to try to find the Behemoth, but no sign of the ship could be
found. She was eventually declared missing and presumed lost. Of the two
hundred thirty-seven ships the Lashmere Navy started out with, only twenty-nine
were still combat worthy at the end of the battle. Human casualties were,
thankfully, light. Nearly seventy percent of the crews of the disabled or
destroyed ships were able to make it into escape pods and be picked up after
the battle.

 Stokes was summoned to headquarters the morning of the
second day. He took a shuttle to the surface and was met by Admiral Coffee
personally at the landing pad.

 Stokes exited the shuttle and stood to attention,
giving Coffee a parade ground salute. Coffee returned the military courtesy and
said, “Admiral, if you would please follow me.”

 Stokes said, “Of course, sir.” He followed the
admiral, not towards the command bunker, but across the plaza towards the
academy. Curiosity warred with strict obedience as he followed the admiral in
silence.

 Coffee walked to the side door of the academy
presentation hall and opened the door for Stokes himself. Stokes gave the
senior admiral a confused look before stepping through the door. As he did, he
heard President Mitchell's voice say, “All hands, stand at attention.”

 Stokes turned back and saw Coffee standing directly
behind him. Coffee made a shooing gesture to get Stokes to mount the short
flight of stairs and approach the small group of politicians.

 President Mitchell was there, along with Vice
President Owens and the Counselor of War. A number of planetary senators were
also present. Stokes was mystified as he approached the group and gave the
president another of his sharpest salutes.

 “Please be seated, everyone,” Mitchell said. It was
only at that moment that Stokes saw the hall was filled far beyond capacity,
Patho, and his bridge crew were all seated in the first row. “Admiral Stokes,
you have been summoned here, before this prestigious assemblage to be awarded
the Crimson Star. The Crimson Star is only awarded posthumously. This award is
not for you, Admiral Stokes, but for those who died under your command, saving
the lives of twenty million citizens of Lashmere. Will you accept the honorable
duty of remembering the dead each time you wear your uniform, Admiral?”
Mitchell looked at him with an expectant light in his eyes.

 In Stokes' experience, the Crimson Star had only been
awarded once before in the manner it was being awarded here today. The man who
had worn it previously had been Admiral Drogue. “I accept the honor of
remembering the dead, Mister President. I will carry the honor of their
sacrifice each time I wear my uniform.”

 The president reached into a red wooden box and pulled
out a long crimson ribbon. At the bottom of which, a blood red star hung. It
was nearly unadorned. The plainness of the award was part of its dignity. The
ribbon was solemnly hung about Stokes' neck. As Stokes straightened, the
president spoke again. “In reverence for those who have fallen, this star
stands in place of the blood they have shed, that their memory might never be forgotten.”
The ritualized words fell across the hall where the only other sound was the
quiet breathing of nearly a thousand officers and enlisted. “We will now
observe a silence of two minutes in honor of those who have given their lives
to preserve our freedoms.”

 The silence elapsed, and Mitchell nodded to Coffee.
The large admiral stepped to the podium. “Thank you all for your solemn manner.
In the two days since the crabs were sent from our sovereign territory, we have
begun to rebuild our fleet and our core of officers and enlisted. Over the
coming months, I expect this effort to consume our lives. The Navy has taken on
a new mandate. After discussion with the other admirals, we have decided to
mount an expedition to find Earth. The Terran Empire knew more than we do about
the alliance, which still remains far stronger than we are at this moment. The
journey will take more than three years. In that time, we hope to build a
series of impregnable defenses to protect Lashmere.