Jack Campbell - Perilous Shield

“We have intercept vectors identified for enigma ship groupings. One is aimed at the hypernet gate, one is aimed at the gas giant, and the last at… at… this planet,” the specialist finally managed to say.

Everyone looked at her. Iceni, not knowing what to say or do, simply tried not to look as worried as she was. Kommodor Marphissa and her flotilla might be able to do something to protect the mobile forces facility orbiting the gas giant. That and the battleship had to be the targets of the group of enigma ships headed for the gas giant. There wasn’t anything she could do about the group heading for the hypernet gate except hope that Boyens would display more skill as a mobile forces commander than he had shown before.

But there wasn’t anything to stop the enigma ships coming toward this planet. Marphissa’s flotilla was too far out of position to manage an intercept. The Alliance warships, the battle cruisers and light cruisers and destroyers, had dissolved their formation and torn after the enigmas, but now were in a hopeless stern chase. If the enigmas came close enough to the planet, the surface defenses could engage them, but she felt a sick certainty that the aliens would not bother coming close to do what they wanted to do.

A strident alarm flashed red on the display, overriding everything else.

Drakon clenched one fist and looked at Iceni. “I know that alarm.”

“Yes,” Iceni said in a voice whose steadiness surprised her. The display was mechanically and unfeelingly providing the details of the death sentence she thought she might have miraculously avoided. “The enigmas have launched bombardment projectiles aimed at this planet. Seventy-two of them, many with substantial mass. That is enough to devastate the limited land area on this world and wipe out the human population.”

“What can we do?”

“Nothing, General Drakon. Absolutely nothing.”

“General,” Malin said urgently. He had come up close to Drakon without being noticed while everyone gaped in despair at the display with its deadly message for everyone on this world. “There are still a few freighters in orbit. We can get you up to one of them.”

“I thought you wanted me to stay,” Drakon said, feeling intense bitterness at the end of his hopes for this star system.

“When it meant something, General. It doesn’t mean anything now. That bombardment cannot be stopped. You can save yourself, and as long as you live, you can still try to make something from the ruins. With the flotilla commanded by Kommodor Marphissa, you will have substantial influence someplace like Taroa.”

“And my troops, Colonel Malin? What about my soldiers?”

“We’ll lift as many as we can up to the freighters, General.”

As many as we can? A few hundred, maybe. Out of thousands. Colonel Rogero would probably stay with his unit until the end, watching the enigma bombardment come down through the atmosphere in streaks of fire that would end in mushroom clouds. Colonel Kai, too. Colonel Gaiene? Drakon imagined Gaiene greeting the bombardment with a sense of relief that his long grief was ending. Gaiene would probably raise a defiant toast to the projectile with his name on it, meeting his end with the combination of style and sorrow that had marked him for the past few years. “Bran, I don’t think I want to. Abandoning all of those soldiers, abandoning all of the citizens here who counted on us to defend them . . .”

“Sir, with all due respect,” Malin urged, “it’s not about you. You have a duty to carry on with this, with whatever we can salvage from the wreck of this world.”

Morgan had appeared on Drakon’s other side, her face twisted into exaggerated surprise. “Even he gets it right sometimes. General, let’s go. We’ve got a while before those rocks hit and turn this place into trash, but once the mob finds out those rocks are coming, they’ll riot and try to storm the landing fields.”

They were right. Malin and Morgan had logic and reason on their side. But Drakon looked over at Iceni, who was gazing with a stony expression at the display. Sensing his eyes on her, she looked back at him. Iceni said nothing, but Drakon felt certain of the acquiescence she had just wordlessly conveyed to him. Go ahead. Leave.

Instead, he walked toward her, leaving Malin and Morgan. “Madam President,” Drakon said formally, “you need to get to a shuttle. I’ll order my soldiers to form perimeters around the landing fields. They should be able to hold back the crowds until the shuttles can load and lift.”

She looked into his eyes. “And we would leave those soldiers? They would stand firm as we head for safety under their protection?”

“Soldiers do that, Madam President. Sometimes they have to. You’ll be able to get clear.”

“ I will be able to get clear? What of you , General?”

Before he could answer, the command center supervisor called out. “We have a message coming in from the Alliance forces. It is addressed to President Iceni and General Drakon.”

“Give us a private comm window here,” Iceni directed.

Moments later, the virtual window appeared before them, invisible to everyone else. Drakon had seen images of Black Jack Geary before. The famous hero of the Alliance did not look like a hero. He looked like a man doing his job, a man who didn’t think of himself as heroic. Drakon had liked that. At the moment, Black Jack didn’t look happy about annihilating most of the enigma armada. Instead, he spoke in somber tones. “This is Admiral Geary. We have done our best to eliminate the enigma force, but some ships have gotten past us, and some of those have launched a bombardment aimed at your inhabited planet. We will continue our pursuit of the enigma ships but cannot stop the incoming bombardment. I urge you to take any possible measures to ensure the safety of your people. To the honor of our ancestors, Geary, out.”

Morgan’s scornful voice broke the silence following the message. “Was there anything in there that we didn’t already know? General, let’s go.”

“He did everything he could,” Iceni replied with a fiery glance at Morgan.

“Yes,” Drakon agreed. “I can’t fault Black Jack.” But otherwise Morgan was right. It was past time to go. But he didn’t move, feeling as if his feet were fastened to the floor, and neither did Iceni. In his mind’s eye, Drakon saw the ranks of his soldiers, the men and women who had followed him for years in battles across a score of worlds, who had lost comrades on each of those worlds while carrying out his commands. He saw them standing firm to hold back panicked crowds while a shuttle carrying Drakon himself lifted to safety, leaving them to certain death. Beyond them he saw the white beaches of this world and the gentle slopes of its islands, he remembered the breezes off the wide waters and the setting of a sun whose particular size and tint had come to seem very familiar in a few years. To leave was one thing. To leave those soldiers and this world knowing that all would soon cease to exist was another and far harder thing.

Even after all the years climbing the ranks of the Syndicate hierarchy, even after all that had required, there were still some things that General Artur Drakon found impossible to do.

“General,” Malin began again, though something in his tone conveyed his understanding that further pleas would be useless.

Drakon shook his head. “Accompany the President when she goes off planet, Colonel Malin. She’ll need your advice and assistance.”

Malin looked down, then back up at him. “I would rather stay, General.”

“That’s an order, Bran.”

“I do not believe any punishment you threaten for disobeying orders would have much meaning under the circumstances,” Malin pointed out. “We might be able to ride it out in the headquarters complex.”