Page 110 of Defiant

Jorgen was losing this war.

He’d thrown everything into a final battle because, after much deliberation, the coalition had determined that Spensa was right. Their best bet was an attack here, where the enemy kept its slugs.

So they’d struck, aiming to liberate as many taynix as they could. Struck with the hope of freeing Spensa, their most volatile—but most impressive—weapon. This had been his one chance at turning the war around.

And he was losing.

He was no expert at large-scale battlefield tactics, but neither was he a slouch. Even before going to flight school, his education had required him to understand and practice command. During flight school, he’d been given officer’s training on the same principles.

So he could see what was happening. Reaching enough inhibitor stations to move Detritus was impossible; it required spreading his forces dangerously thin. Even if the slugs would agree to let it through, there were just too many.

In front of him, the battlefield was an agitated nest of red andblue dots, but his forces in red were penned and pushed backward consistently. The enemy forces in blue were ever advancing. Sweeping out to the sides, leaving room only directly behind theDefiantfor a careful retreat.

Each one of his ships that winked out was a spike through his heart. His forces were now completely on the defensive. It was time for him to make the call. Time for full retreat.

Which was tantamount to giving up the war. They’d never have another opportunity like this. Their next best option was to go into hiding, hoping they could escape the notice of the Superiority. They’d have to abandon their allies. And Spensa.

He’dhave to abandon Spensa.

You have to think about the good of your people right now,he thought.Not the good of one person.

It hurt nonetheless. He turned away from the large wall screen in the command room, walking through silence. Most of the rear admirals, and even the aides, had seen it. The room held its collective breath as he approached the back of the long table, where the kitsen generals and admirals were waiting.

They’d set up a second battle table on top of the larger, human-sized table. None of them sat at it though. They’d instead spread notes, maps, and schematics on the ground around them and were speaking softly. Jorgen’s pin chirped translations at him.

“…possible…”

“…yes, this is right. This is right…”

“…suggest a reposition here and here for maximum effect…”

Jorgen steeled himself to ask for their suggested method of retreat. But as he did, Itchika—the kitsen supreme tactician—drew his attention. She was distracted by something, going over some message. Goro stood beside her, and the general wore his power armor despite being nowhere near the front lines.

Goro looked up with wide eyes. He had a fearsome black streak down the top of his otherwise grey-and-white fur. “Admiral Weight,” he said. “You have to see this.”

“See…what?”

“Captain Nightshade’s suggested battle plan,” Goro said, gesturing to some kitsen-sized papers on the tabletop. “She’s found an answer. A simple one that we didn’t see, as we are too new at using cytonics.”

“It’s a path to victory,” another of the kitsen said, standing up. “A chance. Anactualchance.”

“Explain it to me,” Jorgen said, daring to let hope flutter alive within him.

“Jorgen?” Gran-Gran’s voice said from a small datapad on the table. “Is that you?”

“Yes, Captain Nightshade,” he said, tapping his ear and opening a direct line to her.

“They’ve told you about my little idea?” she asked.

“They seem impressed by it,” Jorgen said. “But I don’t know the details.”

“Well,” she said, “we just need half the fighters to sweep back behind theDefiantand contact the inhibitor stations there, while the other half act chaotically and move in too close to the enemy capital ships.”

“That will leave you exposed,” Jorgen said. “Without fighters to defend theDefiant,the enemy can bring down your shields.”

“Yes,” she said. “They keep pushing forward withincredibleaggression. Foolhardy aggression…”

“You want to try to get those slugs behind theDefiantto let Detritus hyperjump over,” Jorgen said, leaning down, looking at the tiny kitsen maps. He probably should have pulled them up on the screen, but he was too excited. “We’ve been considering that, but we’d have to contact at leastfiftyof those inhibitor stations at once. It wouldn’t work.”

---