The bay’s activity was higher than usual. Non-essential personnel, females and children were calmly organizing in front of their assigned ships to be taken to the rendezvous point in the safe zone. This wasn’t a full evacuation like Varsten had ordered, but a precautionary one.
With the lack of data from the probe, we had no proof Sector 437 was next, but we weren’t taking chances wi
th non-military personnel.
Their relocation served two purposes, to remove the innocent from any chance of attack by the Hive’s new weapon and to clear the flight bay of the non-military ships. We needed it available for incoming support squadrons, and quickly.
While there were some spots always left vacant, Prime Nial had ordered advanced strike and recon crafts to assist the Karter in finding the probe and then neutralizing it. We’d double the size of our fighter population and enhance our weapons, offense and striking capabilities. But they couldn’t land until the other ships cleared out.
The transition was going smoothly, but I was still impatient. I was used to dealing with high-stress situations. The ship was battle-ready, my highest-ranking and most experienced leaders, some from engineering, some pilots, others from comms and navigation and infantry, surrounded me. The Atlans had sent their Commander, Warlord Wulf, a massive beast who’d seen even more war than I had. I had been waiting for him to go into mating fever for years now, but he always maintained control. I was starting to believe the bastard had some kind of superpower.
One of my most sincere hopes was that he would not go beast and rip my battleship to shreds before the new Hive weapon did.
Chloe and Ronan were present as well. The I.C. was well represented. Normally that thought wouldn’t have bothered me.
Today? Today, I felt… different. On edge. It was all because of Erica. Reassurance of her safety on Prillon Prime eased my mind, but I still thought of her. No doubt she was furious with us for forcing transport on her. Her safety was top priority. I’d rather have her mad than dead.
And yet, the Personnel Commander, or PC, had asked after her, wished to liaise with her as to her orders. Erica, to the PC, was her boss and should be leading this relocation. She should be with the other civilian command team, consulting and adding her expertise.
I did not know exactly what my mate’s talents were, as had spent more time fucking than talking, but after she left, I had taken some time to review her profile in the Interstellar Brides processing protocol files.
She was brilliant. A scientist who studied the stars and the universe. She had studied and earned advanced degrees and accolades on her home world. I did not know exactly what she did, or how her knowledge might be useful to my people, but I had spoken to Ronan briefly and we were in agreement.
First, we survive this battle, and then we dedicate every waking moment to learning about our female.
The smile in her photograph was filled with happiness and hope. She’d looked excited to face a new adventure. To venture out into space and meet her perfect mate. But, in this case, mates. And I knew I was not perfect.
Me?
Gods help her. I was not perfect, not in any way.
“Squadron 168 will arrive from Battlegroup Brekk in three hours,” Captain Onar spoke. He’d been with me for years, former leader of the protection team at Transport Station Zenith. He was fierce and organized, his bronze hair and skin broken only by bright golden eyes. He held a tablet and was swiping across it as he spoke. “The fighter wing from the Zakar will arrive seventy minutes after that. We’ll have five hundred fighters in the bay in the next twenty-seven hours, in addition to the three battleships coming from Prillon Prime.”
“How long until most of the fighter reinforcements have arrived?” I asked. The battleships were huge, with their own contingent of fighters. They would be at least a day behind the smaller, faster fighters that were being transported on massive transport pads to the nearest military bases and reassigned to the Battlegroup Karter.
“Six hours, as long as the bay is clear for them to land,” Onar replied.
“Send us out there, Commander. We’ll find them.” Warlord Wulf stood still as a mountain, but I wasn’t fooled. I’d stood beside him more than once and watched him go beast on the battlefield, knew exactly the level of violence he was capable of.
“As soon as we find the fuckers, they’re all yours, Warlord.”
“Good.” He pounded the fist of his left hand into his right palm, the boom so loud several warriors looked up from their work on the docks below.
Fucking Atlans.
I glanced at the PC, her cream-colored uniform a stark contrast to the battle gear worn by the rest of us. “We’re on schedule, sir. All civilian vessels will be clear within the next two hours.”
Turning, I looked to Chloe and Ronan. “What can the I.C. tell us?”
Everyone knew they were I.C., knew that some of their missions were top secret. I didn’t care. The time for whispers and shadows was over.
“A plan to search for the weapon is in the works,” Ronan commented. “I’ll work with Onar to coordinate rest periods for our personnel as well as maintenance of the ships so we can send out advance squadrons. We’ll mix the crafts so we have fighter ships side by side with scanner craft.” He looked to the the Prillon captain, Onar, who nodded in agreement.
“Search groups will run 25/7,” Chloe added. “Ronan and I will be on different rotations along with two others from I.C. Central Command.”
I nodded. “Good.” My leaders were efficient and successful in their roles; that was why I had them. But they would be coordinating with I.C. as well as squadron leaders from multiple battlegroups. I had no specific physical task, nothing to do except organize, monitor and guide as needed. We weren’t under fire. While I considered the entire battlegroup under possible imminent attack, there was no direct proof. I couldn’t scramble or fight back when we didn’t know what we were fighting.
I would not be deployed in the search groups. I would lead from here. It made me feel as if my hands were tied, in every facet of my life.