And then other alarms went off.
Offplanet patrols suddenly reported enemy forces. The screens showed, unbelievably, that two full Imperial fleets were heading toward Cavite, fleets that Tahn strategic intelligence said could not exist.
The Tahn ships went to general quarters and lifted for space.
Intelligence was quite correct—the only Imperial squadron in that sector of space was being held in reserve. The Tahn were being "attacked" by the four destroyers that had escorted the liners into the Fringe Worlds. Four destroyers and nearly a thousand small, unmanned drones.
The drones were Spoof missiles packed with electronics that gave them the signature in every range except visual of full-size warships.
And for once the Empire was lucky.
Atago brought her ships into battle formation and moved in for the attack.
And the liners roared down toward Cavite City.
They were, of course, immediately seen and reported by Tahn infantrymen, but by the time the reports reached Atago, she was six hours off Cavite. And she had worries far more serious than what she thought were transports reinforcing the Empire's ground forces.
She would not discover what the Imperial attack fleets actually were for another hour.
Seven hours to evacuate a world...
The blunt torpedoes that were Sullamora's commandeered liners settled down onto Cavite Base, their bulk crushing the debris under them.
Then Kilgour's evac scheme went into motion. He had organized the civilians into fifty-person groups, each group salted with guardsmen and women that would be part of the new, to-be-formed division. Civilians—Kilgour had dubbed them evaks—brought only what they could carry in small daypaks, which were no more than sandbags equipped with slings. In the last few hours, the civilians had been staged forward to any shelter close to Cavite City's field. The shelters were mostly improvised—and many noncombatants died under the periodic Tahn bombardments.
Sten paced on the bridge of the Swampscott. All screens were active, showing the scurry toward the liners and the sky above that might lead them to safety.
Sten felt naked on that bridge—it was one of the two pagodas on the Swampscott that stood outside the ship's armor. It felt more like a stage set for a livie than a command center. It stretched two stories tall, with huge screens on all sides. Foss, whom Sten had field-commissioned and put in charge of the ship's C3 section, was more than twenty meters away from him.
Sten watched the swarm and prayed to a god still unknown to him that somehow everyone would board before the Tahn came in. He also found space in his prayers that Alex would be one of those on board as he watched the inexorable tickdown on a chronometer that told him when the Swampscott, and the liners, must lift.
And while he was at it, he made another request to the heavens—that Brijit would be among the civilians. He had seen General Mahoney, unconscious in his bubble pakked stretcher, loaded onto a liner.
The timer moved down through final seconds.
The screens showed Cavite Field, bare and empty, gray under drifting smoke clouds, with flashes of fire from incoming Tahn rockets.
Warrant officer Alex Kilgour stood beside him. "Ah hae them, lad. Thae's all 'board't."
Sten touched the com switch on his chest. "All ships. This is the Swampscott. Lift!"
Dust boiled across the shattered concrete as the liners took off on Yukawa drive.
"On command... main drive... three... two... one... Mark!"
And the liners and the four ships remaining of the 23rd Fleet vanished.
Below them, the Tahn final assault began.
Fewer than 2,000 soldiers of the First Guards held the thin perimeter. Their best had, under orders, been evacuated on the liners. They were commanded by Mahoney's chief of staff, who, violating the same orders that Mahoney had planned to break, had remained behind with his soldiers.
The Tahn assaulted in wave attacks.
And were slaughtered.
The First Guards died on Cavite.
But they fulfilled the prophecy that Sten's first training sergeant had made years earlier: "I've fought for the Empire on a hundred different worlds, and I'll fight on a hundred more before some skeek burns me down... But I'll be the most expensive piece of meat he ever butchered."
Three Tahn landing forces had invaded Cavite. One had already been shattered. The other two made the final assault on Cavite City.
They won.
But they also ceased to exist as fighting units.
Brijit van Doorman was not among the evacuees.
Supreme triage had been done with the casualties, and those who were dying or, more cruelly, could never be restructured enough to be fit for combat were left behind.
And someone had to stay behind to keep them alive. Dr. Morrison volunteered.
As did Brijit.
The first Tahn shock grenade shattered two orderlies who were posted near the entry to the underground hospital. Then the door exploded inward, and a Tahn combat squad burst into the ward.
Dr. Morrison, her empty hands spread, stood in front of them. "These are wounded people," she said slowly and calmly. "They need help. They are not soldiers."
"Stand aside," ordered the Tahn captain commanding the squad. He lifted his weapon.
"These are not combat soldiers," Morrison started. "There are no resistants or arms—"
The burst from the Tahn officer's gun blew Morrison nearly in half.
Brijit screamed and hurtled at the captain.
He hip-swiveled and fired again.
Three rounds cut Brijit in half.
The officer lowered his weapon and turned to a noncom. "The Imperial whore said there is no one here capable of bearing arms. They are not necessary for us."
The sergeant saluted and raised his flamer.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
Lady Atago, although not a believer in ceremony, had positioned things very nicely. She was not able to take the surrender from General Mahoney as planned. That really did not matter. She thought that her livie 'cast to Heath would be equally dramatic.
Atago stood in front of the Forez, grounded in the center of Cavite Field. To one side, guards chivvied endless lines of surrendered Imperial soldiers.
She expected the 'cast to be sent directly to the Tahn Council. Instead, her broadcast was intercepted by Lord Fehrle. He stood in formal robes, very small on her monitor.
Lady Atago covered her surprise and reported.
"My congratulations," the image of Fehrle said. "But this is not enough."
"I apologize," she said. "What more could be required?"
"You have won a victory, lady. But the Empire has made much of their warriors on Cavite. Heralding them as martyrs and signposts of the eventual victory, and so forth."
"I am aware of their propaganda 'casts."
"Then I am surprised that you have not already made the appropriate response," Fehrle said. "There must be no iota of victory in this defeat. The forces on Cavite must be shown as totally destroyed."
"They are, Lord."
"They are not," Fehrle corrected. "If one single Imperial soldier returns to the Empire, somehow their information specialists will find a way to turn that into an accomplishment."
"Let them. We still hold the Fringe Worlds."
"Do not dictate policy to me, Lady Atago. Here are your orders. Pursue those ships that evacuated the Imperial survivors. And destroy them. Only if there are no—I repeat, no—survivors will the Emperor be properly shamed."