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Authors: T. C. Metivier
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“Never good to stand around worrying about things you can’t control. Let’s talk about what we can do. What our next move is going to be.”
Drogni took a deep breath, focusing himself. “Right. You’re right about one thing—we need to get the word out. But only to the right people, who can be trusted to be discreet. The Senior Admiralty, of course. Mina and the rest of the senior delegates on Davin. But that’s about it. The last thing we need is for this to leak to the public—we’d have a thousand riots on our hands before we could blink. If that happened, the Coalition wouldn’t need to destroy us—all they’d have to do is wait for us to destroy ourselves.”
“Done,” said Laslo. “I’ll take care of it as soon as we’re finished here. We’ll keep this quiet until the time is right.”
“Thanks.” Drogni pursed his lips in thought. “Now for the real action. I happen to know that Rokan Sellas’s endgame is galactic civil war—heard it from his own mouth, actually—but we can’t prove it. Since the Federation has been taking a wait-and-see approach when it comes to the Coalition, and our esteemed Galactic President has been doing just about everything he can to avoid even the suggestion of hostility, that means our hands are as good as tied right now. If we do anything that makes us look like the aggressor, then we’ll lose Federation support, and it’ll give the Coalition an apparently legitimate excuse to bring military action against us . Without the Federation backing us, the Coalition could sweep in and pound us into dust.”
“I would prefer to avoid that, if possible,” said Laslo, his voice and expression deadpan.
“You think?” Drogni felt his eyebrows practically jump halfway up his forehead. “Keen tactical observations like that, and it’s no wonder you made Admiral. Took you four years more than me, of course, but…”
Laslo gave a wolfish smile, flashing brilliantly white teeth. “Some people,” he said, “Need a head start.”
Drogni clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Your generosity is much appreciated. In any case, this means that we can’t make a big deal of mobilizing our forces. But we can start quietly bringing in some of the more remote elements. Draw in as much as you can without arousing suspicion. Accelerate the work schedules for the repair yards—get as many of our ships as possible battle-ready. We might not be able to hold off everything the Coalition can throw at us. But we can make damn sure that we give ‘em hell before we die.”
“Done,” said Laslo. “I’ll look over my lists, try to shift things around as much as I can. And I’ll talk to Garett, see what we can scrape off the top of the BDF. He’s always saying he’s got more ships than he needs anyways.”
“Well, let’s hope he’s right.” Supreme Allied Commander Garett Moraval was the Senior Commanding Admiral of the Border Defense Fleet. He was an excellent strategist but had a flair for the dramatic and occasionally suffered from bouts of overconfidence. “The last thing we need is to gut our perimeter defenses to take on the Coalition only to have some new menace sweep in from the Wilds and raze the Rimward outposts.”
Laslo gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Now that the SmugCo have finally decided to stop nipping at our heels there are no real threats out that way anymore. Garett can hold the border with two flitters and a can of bug spray if he needs to. You worry too much.”
“I worry exactly the right amount,” Drogni countered. But he knew that Laslo and Garett were right. The borders were secure; the last real menace had ended thirteen years ago with the death of Charas, the Pirate King. Laslo’s estimation of Garett’s tactical abilities might be slightly exaggerated, but they could certainly afford to pare down the outlying task forces a bit without fear.
Laslo waited a moment, studying Drogni curiously. “And what about you?” the Wing
Drogni took a deep breath, focusing himself. “Right. You’re right about one thing—we need to get the word out. But only to the right people, who can be trusted to be discreet. The Senior Admiralty, of course. Mina and the rest of the senior delegates on Davin. But that’s about it. The last thing we need is for this to leak to the public—we’d have a thousand riots on our hands before we could blink. If that happened, the Coalition wouldn’t need to destroy us—all they’d have to do is wait for us to destroy ourselves.”
“Done,” said Laslo. “I’ll take care of it as soon as we’re finished here. We’ll keep this quiet until the time is right.”
“Thanks.” Drogni pursed his lips in thought. “Now for the real action. I happen to know that Rokan Sellas’s endgame is galactic civil war—heard it from his own mouth, actually—but we can’t prove it. Since the Federation has been taking a wait-and-see approach when it comes to the Coalition, and our esteemed Galactic President has been doing just about everything he can to avoid even the suggestion of hostility, that means our hands are as good as tied right now. If we do anything that makes us look like the aggressor, then we’ll lose Federation support, and it’ll give the Coalition an apparently legitimate excuse to bring military action against us . Without the Federation backing us, the Coalition could sweep in and pound us into dust.”
“I would prefer to avoid that, if possible,” said Laslo, his voice and expression deadpan.
“You think?” Drogni felt his eyebrows practically jump halfway up his forehead. “Keen tactical observations like that, and it’s no wonder you made Admiral. Took you four years more than me, of course, but…”
Laslo gave a wolfish smile, flashing brilliantly white teeth. “Some people,” he said, “Need a head start.”
Drogni clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Your generosity is much appreciated. In any case, this means that we can’t make a big deal of mobilizing our forces. But we can start quietly bringing in some of the more remote elements. Draw in as much as you can without arousing suspicion. Accelerate the work schedules for the repair yards—get as many of our ships as possible battle-ready. We might not be able to hold off everything the Coalition can throw at us. But we can make damn sure that we give ‘em hell before we die.”
“Done,” said Laslo. “I’ll look over my lists, try to shift things around as much as I can. And I’ll talk to Garett, see what we can scrape off the top of the BDF. He’s always saying he’s got more ships than he needs anyways.”
“Well, let’s hope he’s right.” Supreme Allied Commander Garett Moraval was the Senior Commanding Admiral of the Border Defense Fleet. He was an excellent strategist but had a flair for the dramatic and occasionally suffered from bouts of overconfidence. “The last thing we need is to gut our perimeter defenses to take on the Coalition only to have some new menace sweep in from the Wilds and raze the Rimward outposts.”
Laslo gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Now that the SmugCo have finally decided to stop nipping at our heels there are no real threats out that way anymore. Garett can hold the border with two flitters and a can of bug spray if he needs to. You worry too much.”
“I worry exactly the right amount,” Drogni countered. But he knew that Laslo and Garett were right. The borders were secure; the last real menace had ended thirteen years ago with the death of Charas, the Pirate King. Laslo’s estimation of Garett’s tactical abilities might be slightly exaggerated, but they could certainly afford to pare down the outlying task forces a bit without fear.
Laslo waited a moment, studying Drogni curiously. “And what about you?” the Wing
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