…And A Time to Reap

Carstairs was lost inside his own head as he pondered the system map. The Centauri hold was growing stronger, he thought, but we must never lose sight of our real mission here. Much of the system fleet was tied up in constant chase and patrol thanks to Hrudek and between the repairs to the fleet, the fuel consumption of so many ships, the monotony of constant drilling and the pall of the defeat Earthforce had been handed, many things were in short supply, most importantly materiel and morale. The boys needed a win and needed it badly. Earth didn't need it as badly. The victories on the way to Omelos were racking up. But these men? You could see it in some of their eyes. Many accepted that you win some and you lose some, but the sting of being the superior force and losing was still fresh.

The one real coup, however, had been the capture of a Dilgar ship. Intel was still going over the information from the computers, but now Carstairs understood why the Dilgar were here.

They want planets in this system for colonization. That means one of two things. Either they are so certain of their victory against Earth and the other races that they're already planning more expansion or they're trying to get people off their homeworld in case they lose.

Wheels continued to turn in Carstairs' head.

The former seems unlikely based on the reports from the front. Maybe a little propaganda was mixed in but even the most conservative reading says we're winning and our allies' reports were backing that up. The latter seemed much more likely. If they're afraid of losing their homeworld to us, then no wonder they're trying to evacuate. They virus bomb worlds they take. In their minds, why wouldn't we do the same to them?

We know what they want. So now we must deny it to them. Carstairs spun his chair around and began typing. We must deny them…

The decision was clear. The die was cast.


"General, Admiral Carstairs wishes to speak to you." Hrudek groggily ran his hand through his hair and over the empty socket. He could still see in his mind the branch that cost him his eye at the age of 14. But if people wanted to believe it was a battle scar, let them. It made most men afraid to…inconvenience him, but not Carstairs. And only he would probably have the guts to call him in the middle of his sleep like this. Unless there was an actual emergency, of course. One could only hope not. There had been enough misfortune. And by "misfortune", Hrudek meant "incompetence". He slipped on an eyepatch and gruffly announced “Put him through.”

Carstairs face appeared on the monitor. "Good morning, General. I'm sorry to wake you, but your new orders were too important to allow them to wait."

Hrudek shook his head to wake himself more quickly. "What new orders?"

"I know you and Kallis have been planning to retake the garden world from the Centauri. The plan has changed. You will have a new target: Demeter."

Hrudek cocked his head. "The virus bombed planet? What good is it to us?"

"I'm broadcasting intel on a sub-channel. Look at it and hopefully you will understand. We're attacking it and taking it. There can be no other outcome. I'll even lead personally."

Hrudek gave a dismissive grunt. "Fine. What forces do you want back from me?"

"You misunderstand, General. Every ship in the system capable of fighting, yours included, will be involved in this action. Failure is not an option on this one."

"I didn't think you had the stones to make that sort of gamble and I question the wisdom of it anyway. What if we lose?"

"If we lose, we will hit it again and we will keep hitting it until we take it or a truly better option comes along. And as long as the Centauri keep the Garden, there is no other 'better' option."

Hrudek shifted uneasily. "What you describe is madness!"

"Read the intel. What I describe is strategy. You have your orders, General. Carstairs out."

That damnable bastard! Hrudek thought. He better damn well know what he's doing! Hrudek scanned the orders he was sent, forwarded them to section heads and then barked out for a com to Navigation. "Plot a course for Rendezvous Point Gamma at half speed. What's our ETA?"

"We...we won't have exact figures for a few minutes yet but about seven hours, sir."

"Fine. Have my adjutant wake me up in three and I want the section heads there waiting 10 minutes later. We are going to be hunting Dilgar."

"Sir! Yes, sir!" and the link went dead.

Hrudek took off the eyepatch and pulled the covers back over him. He damn well better know…