Admiral Folmuri stepped into the conference room and straight into an airborne wall of ode to coffee. Admiral Stevens had beaten him to the large room by just enough time to get the pot of the elixir brewing and was halfway through pouring a pair of mugs.

The Delmar admiral accepted the mug, forgoing cream, or sugar. “I may be forced to reserve a bed in the infirmary after this campaign,” He chuckled, taking a long inhaling breath of the concentrated flavors wafting out of the mug before taking an appreciative sip. “I almost need a second cup these days. Kicking this habit might be as dangerous as the beverage itself.”

Clint flashed him a knowing smile as he drank from his own mug, “Some people believe that Caffeine is partially responsible for some of Humanity’s greatest inventions… I discovered your existence after my third pot in less than a day.” Folmuri snorted at the comment, instead deciding to pull up the tactical map.

“Holding our ground will be hard, and it appears that they will beat our reinforcements to orbit.” Folmuri started, “We cannot use atomics this close to the planet, at least not any of the atomics we have on hand.”

“No, we can’t if we want to keep the orbital clean-up from becoming nearly suicidal for any non-Humans. We are already at risk of causing the logistical stoppages we came here to prevent… How many are left after Captain Grarzia’s little raid?”

“His operation claimed 12 ships, for the loss of a single fighter.” Folmuri glanced through the reports, “A good showing, if a bit on the aggressive side of his orders. It was an oddly human move.”

Clint snorted, “Pot meet Kettle.” He suppressed an actual laugh at Folmuri’s confused expression, “Moving on, you may be correct. Our ground forces are pushing, and the enemy is almost completely pushed back to their landing foothold. If we lose the ability to strike targets from orbit….”

“It will get ugly, very ugly.” Folmuri grumbled, “What do we have left to send.”

“Mostly supplies, we cannot afford to send more units. If we need to, we can hot drop the rest of the munitions, food, and medical supplies in the SWORD pods.” Clint paused as he said the words, and their eyes met.

“We may need to do that before they arrive.” Folmuri voice the thought they both were thinking. “Your thoughts on the proposed plan by our reinforcements?”

“I have, I don’t like giving our enemy an out; but I agree with the premise that we cannot allow a guerrilla war to develop on the surface. I want to modify our part of the plan,” Clint explained as he pulled up a Holographic representation. “I think we could redeploy in…”

Folmuri took a sip of his mug as Admiral Clint Stevens spoke. The next few days would be a long coffee fueled affair, indeed.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

It was almost 2 hours after their attack when Cory stepped into the infirmary. Doctor Jackaline Young was in the back, having finished a second surgery on one of the damage control team members. He had been on his way to respond to Olyvia’s heaviest of hits when a bulkhead fragment was torn from its hardware by a secondary power conduit explosion. Cory did not know the extent of the injury, but The Young Delmar man had been in surgery for the last one and a half hours. Three others of his team were injured in the same explosion, the hellishly hot collant surrounding the power conduit superheated their suits. The bio beds were currently guiding a healthy dose of nanites in their work of mending the second and third degree burns seared to their flesh. Cory quietly thanked Jacky’s requirement of getting a fresh healthy scan of every member of the crew as part of their onboarding.

Others had not been so lucky. Two of the crewmen in the compartment closest to the heaviest damage had saved the ship… and paid for it with their lives. Their job during combat was to be on hand to clear any malfunctions with either Olyvia’s kinetic turrets located on that part of the ship, as well as monitor the autoloading system of the aft Harpoon tube. Those same said turrets, and the Missile tube had taken a direct hit, blowing two of the three power conduits in that compartment and threatening to detonate the missiles in the readyrack. The two crewmembers had sealed themselves into the compartment, running the manual override to stow the missile ready rack… even as the compartment was flooded with radiation several times higher than their suits were rated for. They had saved the ship on two fronts, preventing a chain reaction from an open ready rack and giving the damage control crew precious moments to secure and reroute both the power and the coolant systems around the damage. Cory slowly stepped over to the two closed Morge bays, placing a hand on each of the occupied entrances. He bowed his head, sending a small prayer to the gods of the void to give their souls rest.

Cory felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Doctor Young is out of decon, Sir.” The Human nurse offered, “We lost him in surgery. There was too much damage, I’m sorry. We will have to amend the report first thing.” Cory nodded stoically. Three dead, four including the Pilot. He did not know them well, but the crushing weight on his chest was no less excruciating. He had made the call… His orders had claimed their lives, and it was eating at him. “Thank you. Do not rush the report, it can wait until the day shift.” He responded somewhat formally before excusing himself and walking toward the back of the infirmary towards the surgery.

Jackie was just pulling on a fresh pair of scrubs when a soft knock came. “Enter” She called, exhaustion plain in her voice. Cory stepped through the door, closing it behind him, “I heard, I’m sorry.” He said softly. She crossed the space between them, letting him pull her into a gentle embrace. “He’s not my first loss… It doesn’t get any easier, but it becomes less… novel. I’ll be ok.”

“I mean…” Cory paused, looking down at her. “I’m responsible… I gave the order.. I ki…”

A single finger reached his lips, “Stop” Jacky’s firm tone made him pause. “Don’t do that to yourself.” She said sternly before softening her voice again. “We all signed up for the mission. You did not kill them, the Vorath did. How many.”

Cory didn’t understand, “How many what.”

She held his gaze, “How many ships did we sink.”

“Oh.. Thirteen, we killed thirteen capital ships, maybe twenty-eight fighters.” he said slowly, searching her gaze.

“We lost 3 men, Cory. Morn them, but do not dishonor their sacrifice, or their victory, by claiming their deaths.” Jacky pulled him close to her while still keeping his gaze. “It’s the hardest lesson a commander, and a Doctor has to learn.” She finished, smiling sadly before pulling him into a kiss. “They will be remembered.”

Cory gave her a peck before pulling away, “I… They will.” He said finally. It didn’t hurt any less, but his Jacky was right, and he chose to focus on that fact. “Should I have Dinner brought to our room?” He asked.

“Hmm, I think I’d like that. What’s on the menu this evening.” She pulled away from Cory, walking over to the console to check on the Mess’s line up for Dinner than paused..

“Cory. It's started, they’ve reached orbit.” Jacky’s tone shared his concern. Both had seen what Human warships were capable of in this part of the galaxy.

“Do we have data link?” Cory asked. Olyvia and her small squadron was making their way back to the main friendly fleet, and Cory had left standing orders to get data link back up as soon as it was within real-time signal range.

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“Yea, look like we got fidelity 15 minutes ago. It’s… well, look.” Jacky spun the screen slightly, and Cory’s brow creased as her tone registered. His expression deepened as he watched the tactical map.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Centarus, and his thirty-seven remaining vessels reached orbit. Centarus himself assumed command of the fight in orbit, and immediately put his plan into action. His fleet spread out as much as they could, minimizing the collateral and secondary damage from either glancing blows or pass-throughs from the impossibly powerful Human Kinetic weapons. His second prong proved to be devastatingly effective, He ordered his heavy cruisers, dreadnaughts and Carriers to focus their resources on any of the Human vessels of what a Vorath would consider a heavy cruiser or larger, leaving his smaller vessels to continue to engage the Unity vessels and smaller human ships.

His plane bore its fruit, The USN Kidd, who had been engaging in close support and electronic warfare for Tharsis’ fighters and attackers, was caught out by this change, losing all but one of her main batteries before she could return to the safety of the friendly formation. She lost 110 souls and 150 more of her crew were injured, and it would be at least a day before her slip drive could be repaired enough to carry her back to Hades station for repairs.

The Iowa’s barely fared better, having instituted further hard-won iterative changes to their shields and thermal dissipation systems. They could effectively weather the heavier weapons of the Vorath capital ships more efficiently, but the new concentrated fire slowly forced them back, removing their ability to provide orbital cover for the troops on the ground. USN New Jersey was forced to cover a squadron of Unity Cruisers after they were overwhelmed by this new “death by a thousand cuts” strategy being implemented by the smaller cruisers and destroyers of the Vorath. They obediently ignored New Jersey, constantly changing angles to shoot around her at the weaker Unity vessels. In the end, New jersey was force to extend her shields to cover the beleaguered Unity ships, and it had cost her 2 of her forward shield generators, and one particularly lucky plasma shot that punched through, ripping into her dorsal side forward most starboard side battery. The Vorath vessels claimed five of the weaker unity warships before New Jersey got into position, but her remaining batteries cut two of her attackers to pieces and crippled a third before the horizon of the planet ended the engagement.

Clint and Folmuri were organizing a slow fighting retreat. They were not only outnumbered 3 to one, but they were unwilling to sacrifice vessels needlessly. They would need all the firepower they could preserve for the coming counterattack. The fighting withdrawal was still a withdrawal. Soon, a channel down to the surface was open once more. It could not be helped, and Clint ordered what fighters he could spare to the surface to aid the ground effort. It was a bandaid at most, but it would have to do.

“Admiral, New Jersey is disengaged. 300 dead 1500 wounded. We lost 5 Unity vessels, and Jersey is missing two thirds of her ablative mass on her starboard side, We will be hard-pressed to repeat our performance.” The captain of the Battleship was in a conference call with all personnel captain or higher who were not currently in combat.

“Understood, This Centarus of theirs is proving he has a competent mind. Use the horizon of the planet, hold what you can, and force them to crest into your firing solution. We need to hold for…” Clint checked his chorno, “5 hours. If we can do that, we can take the planet.”

“Admiral, I fear my ships will be unable to provide effective support in that time. I have lost a third of the vessels I had when you arrived.” Tagarin admitted with a low growl of frustration following the admission, “I thank the New Jersey for her efforts, they will not be forgotten. I fear that, with the ranges you are capable of engaging, my vessels may be better served in a support role until our next move. We bear considerable firepower, but we must get closer to use it.”

“Admiral,” Folmuri spoke for the first time in the meeting, “What distance would you require for maximum effect on target.”

“Roughly twenty-five thousand Kilometers. Any further and our damage output would be reduced by almost half.” Tagarin stated.

Clint rubbed the stubble on his chin in thought, “It will be tight, but I believe we can work with that. If you would be willing, Admiral Tagarin; I believe I have an idea to facilitate those necessities.”

“I’m listening, Admiral” Tagarin perked his ears up, and the Giant bipedal Husky visibly leaned forward in his seat.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Centarus nodded approvingly as he drove his wedge deeper into Rawkir’s orbit. Two of his lighter cruisers were currently providing some long overdue orbital support for his warriors below.

“Send a message to all vessels, advance slowly. Take no unnecessary risks.” He ordered before turning to the patiently waiting orderly. “Report”.

“The conference is ready, Centarus.” The Crewman stated, and Centarus took a deep breath. Now was time to remove this particular bandage quickly, “Indeed, Thank you. I will be there momentarily” Centarus returned the young warrior’s salute and turned to enter his ready room. All of the commanders were joining virtually, and many had been openly calling for a return to offensive operations. “Greetings, I’ve called this meeting for one reason and one reason alone. We have expended a great many resources in our attempt to take this planet. I believe that in the next few hours, we will be forced to decide whether to withdraw from this world, or be driven from it with added losses.”

The outrage through the coms was palpable, and understandable, these commanders had bled for this ground, it would be hard to abandon the blood spilt on this soil. “This is unfathomable, we are driving them back! This world is within our grasp, at this current rate.” It was Tyranus, the supreme commander of the forces on the ground.

“Indeed, we have taken back the majority of the orbital control we have lost, in much shorter time it took to gain it in the first place” Muricore, the commander of Centarus’ vanguard fleet added, and Centarus suppressed a raised eyebrow. It was obvious to him the Muricore already suspected the same thing as Centarus. His trusted subordinate confirmed this with his next statement, “However, this feels too easy compared to previous engagements here. Centarus, what do you see.”

Centarus nodded to his old friend, “We picked up a directed signal on our transit to orbit. Its trajectory leads to no known system, it should not be possible for these Human vessels to traverse the stars this quickly. Until we know how, and can duplicate it, we must operate under the assumption that they can reinforce more swiftly than we can expect. I believe that we risk ambush should we stay too long on this world” Muricore nodded but stayed silent, and Centarus continued, “furthermore, we have committed a larger percentage of our total expeditionary forces to this one world. Quite frankly, the only reason I continued to Rawkir was to preserve as many warriors as we can. We will need them to hold the foothold we have already acquired. Should we commit here, we risk not having the strength to hold the ground we have taken across the galaxy. Our Thermian allies are aiding us up spin, but they are less… committed… than we are. Our trust is yet to be fully justified.”

“I.. See..” The ground forces commander stated slowly. “What do you wish for us to do.”

“I will be recommitting every vessel destroyer class or smaller to orbital support. Use their fire as a cover to pull back to the landing zone. All remaining Carriers, focus your fighters to fill the gap left by the destroyer’s redeployment.” Centarus gave a sinister smile, “We may be leaving for now, but they will never forget our touch.”

A chorus of confirmations ended the conference, and Centarus found himself back on the command deck of his flagship. “Contact the fleet. All Destroyers are to target any and all life signs not Vorath inside their orbit to ground ranges… and open fire..”

____________________________________________________________________________________________

“OUT OUT OUT!” Dozer was in his full battle rattle, but his weapons slung uselessly over his back. Another eardrum shattering explosion rippled shockwaves through the earth, shaking the windows and bursting a few light fixtures. The school building turned makeshift hospital had already taken one direct hit to the combined Surgical and ICU ward, and Dozer hoped that at least a few of them got out. His thoughts were punctuated by another bright flash as a new burning ball of plasma slammed into the courtyard and burst. It was a small mercy that the Vorath could not spare their planet killers from the main fronts of orbital combat. One Orbital laser would have wiped the hospital, the topsoil, and all the foliage from the face of the universe, leaving only glassed over bedrock. The walking wounded wing finally cleared out to the waiting shuttles, and Dozer began sprinting toward the exit just in time to hear a strangled gasp of a shout from the ruined carnage of the ICU room. A vague human form covered in dust dirt, and gore emerge from the rubble dragging something behind him.

Dozer was driven to his knees as another closer impact blew all of the windows out in the hall, and a shard ripped across the dirty figure’s face with a new splash of red as its unarmored body was thrown flat on the ground. Dozer was up in a flash and quickly rushed over to what he now recognized as the same Soldier he had saved in the trenches during the predawn assault. Sgt. Sean Reaux stumbled to his feet still dragging the corpse of non-other than one of Dozers Men. “Help him!” the Sargent screamed, “He’s bad off!”. Dozer skidded to a halt as he recognized his Grenadier… well, Half of his Grenadier. Bruce Xavier was not in his armor, and his ruined body ended just below his diaphragm with his internal organs painting a long trail of blood down the hall. “Help’em!” Sean screamed again, barely conscious himself, blood-stained teeth and red spattering coughing hinted at his own reopened injuries as well as new ones. Dozer could not help his friend, but he could save the man trying to get him out.

Dozer grabbed Sean by the shoulders and shook him. “He’s gone soldier, he’s gone. Nanites can’t bring someone back from this.” Sean's eyes widened before he finally turned to see the state of Bruce’s body, seemingly for the first time. “Fuck!” Sean swore, “FUUUCK!!” He repeated once more before reaching down and yanking Bruce’s Tags from around his neck. Dozer picked up the sergeant and began a near suicidal sprint only a MACE wearer could accomplish. The light gravity combined with his suit’s assistance had the two of them out of the hospital, and across the field to the last shuttle, just as one of the plasma barrages finally hit their mark, flattening the structure and setting it alight in one go. One of the surviving Medic’s pushed a Nanite Serrett into the Sargent’s arm and Dozer laid him gently on the deck of the shuttle as the door closed and the Pilot wrenched the small vessel into the air.

“The fuckers are hitting every target with a pulse. No rhyme or reason other than it has people not theirs on the “X”. It’s a fuckin Terror bombing!” The Pilot howled over the chaos aboard.

Dozer stepped up to the cockpit door. “Shit. How many other hospitals got out.” the armored captain asked, finally opening his helmets visor for the first time since the first rounds landed.

“We are the last. They didn’t miss Hotel Bravo, and Hotel Delta took a direct hit five minutes in. We don’t have enough shuttles. They are hitting housing districts as well. We are getting who we can but…..” The Delmar airman’s voice trailed off.

“What run is this for you, lieutenant.” Dozer inquired.

“My eighth sir. Its not getting any better.” The pilot responded. “We are headed directly to Tharsis. She’s the only one with enough open beds left, and they are filling up.”

“Good.” Was all Dozer could muster.