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hundred percent. The primary bases on the moon were all gone, as were the
drydock yards and three carriers hangared there. The casualties on Earth, he
didn't even want to think about that. The only bright spot was that for some
reason the Cats had not launched a wave of strontium clad thermo nukes.
England had been spared as well, though it seemed at the moment to be an
almost selfish thing to think about.
Geoff led his guests down to his wardroom and without even asking, pulled out
a bottle of single malt Scotch, six tumblers and poured out six very stiff
drinks, draining the bottle dry.
"To our comrades," he said quietly, and they silently drank the toast.
Geoff settled back in his chair and looked around.
"If this is victory," Geoff finally said, " sure as hell would hate to see
I
defeat."
"You stopped the bloody Cats at least, sir," Jason replied. "Hell, three of
their super carriers blown apart, more than half their best pilots gone, forty
other ships crippled. I heard the report coming in that they're dumping
fighters off their carrier as they retreat, not even enough room to haul them
all out."
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Geoff nodded, fighting an exhaustion that had all but robbed him of any
ability to do anything beyond sitting in silence and staring.
"I heard about Polowski, sir," Doomsday said.
Geoff looked over at him. When he had ordered Mike in, he knew in his heart
that Polowski would get his revenge and die doing it. If the Cats had
miscalculated anything, it was that. They had pushed the intimidation a notch
too far, and rather than terrorize it had aroused every pilot, spacer, and
Marine in the fleet to a willingness to die rather than submit. He suspected
that Jukaga had realized that but it was obvious that Thrakhath never would.
The war had changed, changed far from anything that either side had ever
anticipated. The manipulation of the human desire for peace had backfired,
their collective rage turning the enemy back, though at best it was a Pyrrhic
victory.
The Cats still had seven more heavy carriers close to completion. If they came
on again, he dreaded to think what would happen. They had shot their bolt in
turning back the attack. Perhaps the new dreadnought-class battleship under
construction on the far side of the Confederation might reverse that, but in
his heart he doubted if it would be ready in time to repulse the next attack.
All he could be certain of now was the fact that those who had survived this
attack would stand united to the end. He could even see that in the eyes of
Kruger, who, upon seeing him, lifted his glass in a salute.
"To the Confederation Fleet," Kruger said.
"And to comrades gone," Paladin replied softly.
"Admiral Tolwyn."
Geoff looked over at the comm screen, dreading that it was yet another battle
report stating that the Kilrathi had turned about and were coming back.
"The Kilrathi?" he blurted out.
"Their carriers have already jumped through in retreat, sir, still trailing
abandoned fighters. Cruisers are now jumping out as well. Picket squadrons are
reporting no further action."
He let out an audible sigh of relief. The battle was really over.
"Admiral, sir, you're wanted on the port flight deck."
"Why?"
"Don't know, sir. Launch officer requested your presence, that's all."
"On my way."
Geoff stood up, his knees suddenly weak and Jason rose from his chair coming
up to his side.
"I'll go down with you, sir."
Geoff smiled a thanks and looked back at his guests.
"There's another bottle in the cabinet Finish it off," he said quietly.
"Best advice I've had in weeks," Doomsday replied even as he reached into his
pocket and pulled out the chewed on remains of the cigar Ian had given him.
"Geoff, for heavens sake," Kruger interjected, "would you order him to get rid
of that god-awful cigar? It's enough to turn my stomach."
"Hell, he's still officially Landreich," Geoff replied. "He's your
responsibility, not mine."
Doomsday pulled out a lighter and puffed the cigar to life, Kruger, Richards
and Paladin cursing him while they poured out another drink.
Geoff left the wardroom and headed back to the launch deck, pressing up
against the wall as a med team came past, bearing a stretcher, a bloody towel
draped over the body's face.
Geoff watched it silently as they passed.
Jason reached out, and put his hand on Geoffs shoulder.
"No matter what you might think, you did good, sir. Earth is still alive, the
Confederation still lives."
"And how many did I lose, Jason?"
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"I once asked the same thing after Vukar Tag, sir. It's the nature of war, you
told me. Even when you win, it still breaks your heart and will crush your
soul if you let it."
"And you call this winning?"
"It's a damn sight better than what the Cats wanted. You turned them back and
you brought us time."
Geoff nodded and then continued on, reaching the flight deck. The launch
officer was by the door.
"I thought you should come down here, sir. We just brought some casualties
in."
Geoff looked at him, confused, as the officer pointed him over to a flame
scorched landing craft. Its back hatch was open, pilots and Marines, most of
them wounded and still in their pressurized flight and combat suits, being
helped out.
Geoff looked back at the launch officer who smiled and nodded. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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