Things begin to dramatically fall apart for Arcadia, although the outcome is already known.

As promised, here's the next chapter. The military consequences here are not actually a surprise; Anders' last chapter showed the collapse of Arcadia's eastern front, and Chapter 14 covered the start of the OVKK offensive. But this is what it looks like for Coble, who is begining to realize how badly he has compromised a situation that in the best case would be a close-run thing for the Jericho Home Guard he is supposed to be advising. Patreon subscribers, this should also be live for you with notes and maps and stuff. There's a map included here, also, but Patreon folk get a second bonus map covering the later battle so, you know... if you like maps I guess?

Released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. Share, modify, and redistribute--as long as it's attributed and noncommercial, anything goes.

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Here is a situation map of the war to date, to catch you up to speed.

Crucible, by Rob Baird. Part 15.

Geruda Combat Center, “Fort Sheridan"
Northwestern Arcadia, Jericho
29.11.2560

According to the casualty report, General Dorset's armored brigade had lost seven Jackals before retiring back across the Alph River. Billie Moody had finally decided to launch her counterattack, she'd appealed to John Devry and the Jericho Home Guard, and Devry ordered Dorset's brigade to support.

This, like a fair number of Devry's decisions, had been against Ellison Coble's advice. The bridges over the Alph could only be crossed two abreast, and it was a small miracle that the moreaus hadn't nailed the bridge while the Jackals were actually on it. As it was, Bob Dorset only managed to get three companies across the river.

None of them had linked up with Moody's offensive, which was also a small miracle because that offensive had ground to a destructive halt. Dorset was still far enough away when he blundered into some screening element of the moreau army or another that a half-hour of trading fire was enough to convince him to withdraw.

Seven Jackals was far better than Moody seemed to be faring, although their situation reports were not always especially detailed. An attack that had started around 0930, trying to check a brigade-strength moreau advance, had been abandoned two hours later, he knew that much; orbital intel suggested 20 or 30 mechs and armored vehicles had been destroyed or abandoned.

He knew that they would try again, soon. The Kashkin appeared to have the better part of an armored division massed along the river—too big a threat to ignore. Left alone, they could cross the river. Devry understood that much, at least; he kept the bridges well-defended.

“Sir?" He looked up to see who wanted his attention, and why. “Can I have the report I prepared for you back? Somebody pointed out a mistake—we miscalculated the weight of the moreau tanks."

Warily, he gave the computer in question back to Lieutenant Coursey. “What kind of mistake?"

“With the bridging equipment they have, the available crossing points aren't this whole orange strip. We underestimated the mass of a tank by about 20%. They can really only cross, uh… here."

The orange strip broke apart, shrinking into smaller component pieces. “Still a lot of orange, Judy," he said. “Where do we think they will cross?"

“Still the same three places as before, sir. Maybe it's even likelier now, since their options are more limited than I thought."

The engineering vehicles that he knew the Kashkin had were fairly capable ones, but the Alph was wide in its lower reaches, closer to the Arkadiansee where moreau tanks could move most easily in the hills to either side.

The best place to cross would be further north, and there they would be up against the Coordinating Council's massed forces. Those could be defeated, Coble figured, but not without sacrifice. They still had time—the moreaus were concentrated in the west, much nearer to Silver City.

“Package this up and send it over to Devry. Let's hope he gets the message."

“Yes, sir."

The residents of Silver City had started to panic—fighting was close enough that they'd probably heard the commotion of Dorset's short battle. There was, though, no reason for panic. Moreau artillery hadn't targeted the bridge; their air force was apparently still busy harassing the western front.

That gave him an excuse to contact Colonel Shirakawa, who had not proven to be terribly helpful but was still the best option Coble felt he had. And at least Tatsuki opened the link request in a fairly timely fashion. “EJ. Good afternoon!"

“Well, it's an afternoon," Coble granted. “How is the front looking?"

“What front?" Tatsuki grinned. “You've trained the Home Guard well. The animals have stopped, off to the south. I'm sure you know that."

“Just like you know that front's stability is an illusion. They're pushing pretty heavily in the east. You have three brigade combat teams active—trained soldiers, not the Home Guard or the militias. And your fighter-bombers are twice as capable as anything the Zoo has."

“So they are. And this is a conflict between Arcadia and the, uh, what did they call it? The Commonwealth? It said so in the declaration of war. Nothing about us."

It was, of course, obvious what was happening—obvious that Shirakawa would put off committing until the corporations absolutely needed him, and then exploit that leverage later. Countless dead later. “What about your allies?"

“They haven't asked us yet. We'll consider it when they do. We've provided some additional support already—a bit of logistics; some communications equipment. It's not that I don't care, major."

“But?"

He smirked. “But you need to calm down. Really—relax, EJ. The Home Guard isn't even in contact on the Bodie Slope, are they? That's what the last deconfliction report said. They pulled back. Maybe the Coordinating Council has something to worry about, but you certainly don't. Neither do I."

Frustrated, Coble ended the conversation after a few more perfunctory lines. Two days before, just after the start of the war, he'd told Colonel Stutts and Dr. Tindall that he didn't see the Sanganese as likely to intervene.

He was only becoming more certain of that. Shirakawa was more committed to cold economics at heart even than anyone in Geruda was. He would wait until the last minute to step in—after the militias had been bloodied, and the moreau armies were too worn out to present serious resistance.

And then he could negotiate for whatever he wanted, from a position of strength. So long as the Coordinating Council had a credible army in the field, Shirakawa would dangle the prospect of support just out of reach for them.

And only the the Military Directorate matters. Fuck the Home Guard, right? Moody and the Coordinating Council must've made promises about the Sanganese mining operations in the western mountains. Arcadia was going to be left in the lurch—Geruda wasn't exactly rushing to intensify their support beyond the minimal task force.

He sent off another report to John Devry, warning him to keep his attention on the eastern front. John had at least been chastened by the bloody nose they'd gotten for trying to join Moody's counteroffensive; he seemed willing to listen when told to dig in.

Before he took the job, Ellison had read Max Kastner's extensive notes on the previous conflict. Kastner had then been John Devry's equivalent, in charge of a weaker and poorer-equipped army, and Coble had once felt this made for a significant difference.

The first line of Kastner's conclusion had stuck with him. Although not immediately clear, the war was lost when we failed to win it. We had, it turned out, only one opportunity. The tautology referred to the disastrous first day of a war Yucatec Jericho had started, when their army failed to split the Commonwealth in half—exposed itself to harassing counterattacks, and bought their enemy time for the Orion Soviet to intervene decisively with supplies and equipment.

Coble did not believe in a single, all-important battle; he did not, in any case, think the Home Guard had the organization or skill to win it. But then, eventually, Kastner had settled on the same strategy Coble now espoused: stay defensive, wear the moreaus down, and wait.

And he'd called for a cease-fire when the Moodies—aggressive then as now—threatened a coup, and tried to blow up the Arkadiansee Dam. Coble thought of Kastner as a cooler head, who had prevented catastrophe, and told himself that Kastner could've won through attrition, anyway.

But could he? The moreaus had won their conventional engagements against Kastner's armor and pressed the militias well back in the Dun Gap. They were shelling McKeever Spaceport by that point. How long would the government have held out? How long will Arcadia hold out now?

“You might want to see this, sir."

Coble was jarred from his idle thoughts by Dave Whitt's voice. He doubted his executive officer severely. “Because I'll actually want to see it, or because it's tactically important?" Captain Whitt handed him the computer without clarifying.

To: CCMD, Bodie
1330. Unable to support operation as planned. 51st Brigade ineffective until further notice after previously ordered defense of Jackson. Regrouping at AMC Depot Markham.
Gen. C. Morgan, 2nd Division

To: CO, 2Div
1332. Provide detailed readiness report on 51st Brigade immediately.

To: CCMD, Bodie
1355. 51st Mechanized Infantry status as follows.
- 1st Battalion at 62% strength with 67 KIA or MIA. 44/60 IFVs and 11/14 APCs remaining. Ammunition and equipment in good order.
- 2nd Battalion at 29% strength with 90 KIA or MIA. 29/60 IFVs and 7/14 APCs remaining. Ammunition in good order. Spare parts and medical supplies lost with attack on supply convoy.
- 3rd Battalion at 4% strength with 319 KIA or MIA. 0/20 IFVs remaining and 2/49 APCs. Ammunition depleted from remaining units. No data on supply.
- 4th Battalion at 36% strength with 22 KIA or MIA. 0/60 IFVs and 0/14 APCs remaining. Have distributed vehicles and personnel to 1st and 2nd battalion.

To: CO, 2Div
1339. General Morgan to report at once to operational headquarters.

Ellison blinked at the log. The militias were, so far as he was aware, still largely unengaged. They'd been taking over from the Home Guard in holding the Dun Gap and the eastern slopes while the JHG tried to consolidate along the Alph River. The notion that an entire infantry brigade had been obliterated seemed implausible.

“Can we authenticate this?" he asked carefully.

Dave Whitt looked towards Kathy Kuhlmann, the warrant officer who'd given him the report. “It's from a friend of mine, sir," she said. “In General Morgan's armored division. My friend is in the communications department—they're trying to coordinate another attack, I was told."

“You trust him?"

“Yes, sir."

Whitt cleared his throat. “We can confirm Morgan was recalled to Directorate headquarters an hour ago, according to their other comm logs. So… there's that, sir."

“Christ almighty. Where are we on orbital?"

“Fifteen minutes, sir."

“As soon they're above the horizon, radio the task force and do what you can to get Colonel Stutts on the line. Tell him it's an emergency. Dave, shoot me the eastern sector sitreps from 0800 to 1100."

Whitt nodded; Coble had the logs a moment later. He went through them carefully, trying to match them against the orbital data they'd recovered. That Jackson had been abandoned wasn't in doubt—much of the town was still burning, five hours later. There'd been only one overflight during the attack itself, as far as he could tell.

But… no, the damage got worse between these two passes. More than just the fires spreading. There wasn't much sign of moreau armored vehicles, and it wasn't like the Zoo had many of those to spare. They'd assumed the attack was brief and the defense desultory.

“Colonel Stutts for you, sir," Whitt called over.

“Join me, please. And close the door."

Colonel Stutts was using a low-resolution hologram that showed him only from the neck up. They must've woken him, but Stutts seemed alert enough. “More excitement, EJ?"

“I think we might be in trouble, sir."

“I briefly reviewed the status updates. You said the east has gone hot. The Home Guard is out of contact, but the enemy is engaging the militias and an attempted counterattack stalled three hours ago. It looked calm since then. It's not?"

“It is, sir. Moody will try again. Here's the problem: at 0940, 2nd Armored Division—that's Arnby's contribution to the Coordinating Council—reported to the Military Directorate over on the Bodie slope that their 51st Mechanized Infantry brigade had abandoned the Moody stronghold at Jackson and would regroup before joining that counterattack. The Home Guard was CCed on that message; they forwarded it to us. That was the last outpost with good visibility over the Gap, but not an insurmountable loss."

“Okay. And, major?"

“I have a leaked communiqué from 2nd Division. 51st Mechanized doesn't exist anymore, sir. By that point they'd been wiped out. Their 3rd Battalion lost more than half their number killed or missing trying to hold Jackson."

“Do we know what they were fighting?"

Captain Whitt raised his finger cautiously; Coble nodded towards him. “Colonel, this is Dave Whitt. We don't know. I've been trying to run down what we can piece together in the last few minutes, but… looking at the authentication codes, no officer in 3rd Battalion has sent any message since 0855. And, if we extrapolate a bit, 30th Armored was standing by to relieve Jackson—two companies in their 1st Battalion went dark at 0920. The next regular sitrep reports an airstrike with no word on losses."

Colonel Stutts took a deep, slow breath. “Does that mean 2nd Division has no infantry support, major?"

“Yes, sir."

“ And the Zoo has at least another, what, battalion or two in action that we don't know about. Mobile infantry?"

“Orbital from the task force points to an understrength tank company in Jackson now. But a dozen tanks didn't kill or capture 350 Arnby militia, sir. Probably powered armor, yes. If they have a mobile infantry brigade active in the Dun Gap, our models are too optimistic. Moody's counterattack will need more support than we can give them."

The colonel shook his head. “EJ. You're telling me you can't even trust the order of battle they're reporting to you. How do we organize support for that? What's Devry doing with all this?"

“I contacted you first, sir. After this morning, the Home Guard is staying on their side of the Alph. The Coordinating Council will ask for backup from them, too. My advice has to still be that they dig in and try to keep anyone from crossing for as long as we can."

“It's good advice. But powered armor means they can try to force a bridgehead anywhere they want. I wouldn't want to get a temporary bridge built under fire, but I'm used to fighting more… aggressive enemies. Can Devry hold the whole north bank by himself?"

“We're kind of short on options, sir. I've tried leaning on the Sanganese for support, but they're waiting for a request from the Military Directorate, not the Home Guard. I'm concerned it might not come until we've taken serious losses."

Stutts leaned back, and when the holographic imager refocused Coble saw the outlines of the man's bunk. He had, indeed, been sleeping. His sigh was tired, too. “Who leaked the message to us? Someone in the Council?"

“Yeah. One of my analysts has a friend in 2nd Armored."

“Does anybody happen to have any friends on the other side of the line?"

“Friends?" Coble did, he hoped, a decent job at remaining neutral when he asked the question. “What do you mean?"

“Ones who know moreaus in the Commonwealth. Or maybe know shippers who've dealt with moreau companies. Fuck—I'd take somebody who went shopping over in the Zoo once. Anything, EJ."

“I don't know. Contacts, maybe—there's moreaus in Presbyter City, working—"

“Can they get in touch with our enemy? CODA's playing hard to get when we're looking to open a line of communication."

“We can try. Why do you ask, sir?"

“Our guys have already taken serious losses, EJ. We have to get the wounded out—maybe off-world, through the equatorial neutral zone. Do what you can to find way and get a message through, and—message through—protect—trans—mess—"

The last few words looped a few more times before the holographic link closed: the task force had dropped beyond the far horizon, and none of the satellite repeaters would carry Geruda's encrypted traffic.

“Well, Dave? You know any of the dogs of war?"

“Know?" Captain Whitt gave him a disconsolate chuckle. “Hell, I tried to enlist, boss. But we pay better, and basic training looked like it was all fetch. So you're stuck with me. What about you?"

“Not a dog person. But I have some of my own friends at CODA—they've helped out before. I'll take this one on. Let's…" He sighed, and tried to think of how to break the enormous tasks before them into something manageable. “Get a format together for regular updates we can give to the colonel."

And he'd need to be able to make some kind of persuasive argument to John Devry, to keep him from throwing more of his army away on behalf of the Coordinating Council. The task force had also given Coble's staff crucial new imagery about the fighting near the Alph.

Arnby's 2nd Division was strung out and appeared to have been nearly cut off, with the river to their northwest and most of a hostile infantry brigade separating them from the rest of the Directorate's army. He had to wonder if they'd been made the spearhead as payback for the loss of Jackson, or if they'd volunteered themselves to salvage their reputation. Either way, what can we do?

Under the best, most favorable circumstances, the Home Guard could get a battalion over the bridges before the moreaus reacted. Armored units on their southern flank might compel the enemy commander to relieve some of the pressure on 2nd Division.

But even if 2nd Division could link up with those reinforcements, that only put them further away from the army, with less room to maneuver and moreau artillery ready to pound them into oblivion. Their best option was to break out towards the north, and Devry couldn't help them do that.

John would have to be convinced, though, he knew. First things first. Before anything else, he opened the link code Dani had given him if he needed to reach her in an emergency.

He told the machine at 'JD Reactor Maintenance' he wanted to speak to a representative, and hung up. His private communicator began flashing a minute later. “Mr. Coble?" her voice, on the audio-only connection, was distorted but recognizable.

“I need to get a message to your government, and it needs to be on the record. How do I do that?"

“Why?"

“We're going to start organizing medical aid and casualty evacuation. Things being heated as they are, I don't trust we can just put a beacon on any old transport and you won't shoot it down."

“When?"

“Soon. At least I want a framework in place before it becomes a crisis."

Silence. “Alright. I'll figure something out and get back in contact."

The connection went dead. Will she help? He hoped so. She hadn't argued. McKeever Spaceport was still operational, at least for the moment; medical ships could leave from there and escape without crossing any active fronts.

At least, he reminded himself again, for the moment. He turned his attention back to where the fire on 2nd Division was taking an increasing toll. Devry's artillery commanders were asking him for permission to support the Military Directorate's attack. Exposing the location of the Home Guard's remaining artillery to moreau counter-battery fire was suicidal, but…

“We have a call for you, sir." Coble looked up at the main information board: their orbital task force wouldn't be in range for another twenty minutes. “Civilian, sir. On an open line. The name comes up as 'Susan Debord.'"

Dani? It seemed dangerously indiscreet for her to be reusing the same inbound number—and this one wasn't dialing his communicator. “Uh. Put it through, I guess."

Susan definitely wasn't Dani—wasn't, for that matter, a moreau at all. She wore what Coble thought of as typically Arcadian fashion: a blouse with silver accents thirty years out of date, and subtly matching earrings. “You're the head of Geruda here?" she asked, as soon as the line was open.

“I'm the local representative, yes. The overall commander of the mission is Colonel Stutts, but I oversee day-to-day operations."

“Are we about to be occupied?"

The petty officer who'd transferred the call poked her head through the door, and held up a computer for him to read: she's the mayor of Silver City. “No. The fighting is all well to the south, on the other side of the river."

“There's explosions on our side, though."

The logs did show a few artillery strikes, he knew, although all of them had been highly targeted—aimed at supply depots and surveillance sites. “Off to the west, though, and off the main roads. There's a counteroffensive underway, led by the Coordinating Council."

Susan gave him a derisive snort that was far more aggressive than he would've expected from the mayor of Moody-allied Silver City. “What are we supposed to do here? Our office has been given no guidance whatsoever."

“If you have spare generators, make sure they're distributed to local hospitals. Stockpile water and energy as best you can—think about it like a storm. At this point, people probably shouldn't try to leave—"

“Well they are! They want to, anyway."

“Do whatever's in your power to keep the roads clear for government and military traffic. The city is safe—they're not going to start bombing you, and they can only cross the river through a handful of bridges, which are still under Home Guard control."

“And what if that changes?"

“Ma'am, I don't know. The best thing you can do is try to maintain order. Call the police up, keep people calm, and prepare to help relieve whatever casualties you can. Silver City isn't a target. We have no reason at all to think differently."

“That's what the Coordinating Council told us about Jackson! But they let all the civilians there escape—now I'm—I'm hearing the whole town is gone, now!"

He frowned. It was, now that he thought about it, slightly concerning that the Council had not seen fit to communicate with Silver City at all. “Well. That's an exaggeration, ma'am. But as far as I know, there were no civilian injuries in town. The Coordinating Council's Military Directorate turned it into a target. Nobody's doing that with Silver City—"

“You don't know that! It might be!"

“The bridge is five kilometers east of the city ring road. If the Zoo crosses the bridge, they'll just bypass Silver City altogether—"

“They're crossing the bridge?"

“ If. My point is that there's almost nothing of military value in your city. You're going to serve your people best by avoiding a general panic. Now…" He caught the sound of alarms, and excited shouting, from outside his office. “If you have other questions, please direct them towards Ford City. I need to go."

She started to protest, but he closed the link. Trying to leave his office, he nearly ran into Dave Whitt, whose expression was jarringly wild. “Major. Perimeter EM just went crazy. We're being jammed on the North Bank."

“Which—"

“Captain! Situation developing, here." A different voice cut him off, having apparently not noticed his appearance. “Lost the main SCI link. Backups aren't responding."

“Which perimeter, Dave?" No. Get control of the situation, like you just told Mayor Debord. Coble raised his voice. “Hey! Everyone in the center, quiet down. Let's work through this. ELINT, you first: what's being jammed, and where?"

“The North Bank stations, sir. Half the sector is dark. It's some kind of active countermeasure—we're trying to triangulate it, but it seems to be multiple point sources. Encrypted comms bands are also saturated—we can't get a stable link." She pointed towards the map dominating the far wall; the western half of the Arkadiansee was in abrupt shadow.

“Charlie Sector, that's your watch area. What's going on, lieutenant?"

Lieutenant Stearns tapped at his computer, adding a few fuzzy markers to the center's situation map. “There's been no signs of artillery or troop movements in the last half-hour. I've asked my Home Guard liaison for passive intel through a wired connection to western theater HQ, but they don't have any surveillance units in that area. Everyone's at the front."

“What's south of the lake? Their capital, the big industrial city… their—"

“Spaceport," Captain Whitt finished at the same time. “They must be expecting inbound traffic. Making sure the task force can't see it."

“They're good at that kind of smuggling," Coble agreed; he'd asked for a stationary orbital imager, for precisely that reason, and been denied. “But they've been bringing in lighters since this started, and never blinded us before. Can I get orbital diffs, please? Last… three cycles. Where are we on synthesis, Lieutenant Stearns?"

“Our resolution's too low right now, sir. I'm restarting the integration from scratch—trying to account for the transceiver drift, but—"

“Be quick with it."

In the meantime, someone layered the imagery from their task force's previous three orbits, with the major changes highlighted. Nearly everything was off to the east—particularly now that the Moodies were attacking again. He didn't see much activity around the moreau spaceport.

“So… what are they bringing in that's so special this time?"

“More tanks, maybe." Coble thought that was the voice of one of his strategic modelers. He was becoming distracted, though, looking at the map with narrowing eyes. “…optimized against the Jackals. Be a pretty decisive surprise for the Directorate."

“I don't think so," someone else said. “If they had some kind of superweapon, they'd have fielded it now. By the time those missiles are at the front, the battle's already going to be over. Maybe it's who the ship belongs to. If it's someone from the Alliance…"

“It would've leaked to us," Coble spoke up, to cut the conversation short. “We've had pretty good passive intel on that spaceport. Where have their sorties been hitting?"

“Same as before." It was the strategist again. Stanley, Coble recalled. Captain Stanley. You thought that was his first name for weeks. “—and transmitters. Nothing too surprising."

What else did you overlook, EJ? “How often?"

“Once every hour or two. A few more, early this morning."

“To support their offensive. Their operational tempo dropped off a cliff yesterday. I know, I know." He wanted to forestall the obvious objection—that tempo was never sustainable, as impressive as it had been on the first day of the war. “But now they have a division engaged in the Dun, against at least a division of the Coordinating Council's army, and you're telling me in the last hour they've only managed to get one element up? To hit a handful of radio cars?"

“You think it's an airstrike?" Dave Whitt asked. “The Moodies should be ready for that. Their Jackals have decent anti-air coverage. When they're massed—which they are; those fucks won't move for anything."

“It won't be the Moodies, sir," Captain Stanley said. He and Coble were now on the same page, although EJ still didn't know where that page was leading him. “If they're surging their air force, they've been planning for it at least twelve hours, and maybe a full day. Too much time to plan for a fluid situation like that battle. Major Coble, I think they could be coming for us."

“Why?"

“Orbital intel from the task force is one of the few advantages Arcadia has at this point. If they knock us out, that blinds the Home Guard for whatever they want to do next. A surprise attack, a new front…"

“Uh." Lieutenant Stearns cleared his throat—enough to get their attention, even if that hadn't been his intent. “Uh. Uh, sir, passive intel is starting to integrate. We've got incoming. Somewhere between eight and sixteen aerial contacts, inbound at high speed."

“Eight and sixteen?" A few of the contacts Stearns had added to the map disappeared even as he asked the question. “Twelve. That's half their damned air force. Where are they going?" Even the relatively light Boreas attack plane, in those kind of numbers, could level Fort Sheridan completely.

The sortie passed McKeever Spaceport by; it was still headed to the northwest, judging by what the listening outposts could make out. Dani would've warned me. He had more confidence in that than he could really explain. That did leave the question of what they were doing. The western front had been more or less stable for over a day, and there wasn't a good reason to escalate now, unless—

And then, with a gasp, it hit him. “Fuck. Fuck me. Get Colonel Shirakawa on the line! Right now!"

“Wireless comms are shot, sir. They got us real good when they took out the western repeaters yesterday. We need the North Bank relays up to bounce it off a satellite."

“And they're drifting. Because they've been jammed," he realized. Because I let them do it. “Deconfliction, then. We have a hardwired link to the deconfliction center, right? At least for short traffic. Message them: Chengbei is about to be hit."

“Sent. Says it's in the queue."

The signals marking the moreau flight's location had passed Fort Sheridan by. “You sent it as a high-priority message?"

“They've probably getting a lot of those," Dave Whitt muttered. “The east and all…"

“What about optical? Do we have a laser link anywhere?"

“The task force, sir, yes. In about two minutes. And, ah, the center says they think they've forwarded our message on. But, um, like Captain Whitt said, uh—they're pretty busy trying to filter traffic from the eastern front, sir."

Dave sighed. “It's a hardened installation. They'll have defenses."

“And the moreaus only have light planes. The Boreas is practically just a scout," Coble said, although his agreement was half-hearted.

“Sir? I have an optical link to the task force, but… Chengbei isn't answering. Not on any long-range channels."

Coble shook his head. “We should have orbital imagery, now, too. Right? Spare me. I want a report as soon as we can guess how bad the damage was."

The ships in Geruda's task force were strung out far enough that the first of them caught the end of the attack, and the last of them had a good view of the aftermath. The report was on his desk half an hour later.

— at best, significantly degraded. But the destruction of protective installations (zone 'A,' above) is more indicative of a total loss of those facilities. Any remaining Saker fighter-bombers must rebase to the northern outpost. If the next orbital survey does not indicate any change to bunkers J or K, we assume there are no airframes left to rebase.

One of the final sections was headlined: “time to return facilities to service"; the contents read “n/a." Coble set the computer aside and left his office to look at the strategic map. The mood in the center was noticeably grim.

In the east, what remained of 2nd Division was within two kilometers of being encircled. The Directorate's 1st Division—Norman Moody commanded that, and they were in good order—was only a horizon's length away.

2nd Division would, Coble thought, be able to break out. He blanched at the thought of how bad their casualties would prove to be, but the imagery was not more indicative of a total loss. Still, even if it hadn't been explicit he had to assume that the Directorate had been counting on the Sanganese to assist them, when and if it came to it.

And now that option was off the table. Even if the Kingdom decided to retaliate—and Coble wasn't certain they would—it would take days, maybe longer, for them to deploy anything more than a few more fighter-bombers. Or they might cut their losses, as Geruda… as we should've done by now, ourselves.

“Update from the task force."

“ From? What is it?" He took the tablet from Whitt warily. “Wait—a message from CODA?"

“CODA sent it to us through our representative at the ecclesia. The Commonwealth says that they fear a humanitarian crisis if Arcadia doesn't surrender in the next 24 hours."

“They're not going to do that." He skimmed the report, which did not pass judgment on that obvious conclusion. “So… ah. If we broadcast a list of transponder codes, any ship on that list is safe? Subject to inspection, I assume."

“Theoretically, but they go on to say they're aware of the extenuating circumstances. It's going to get worse, though. I guess we're both already aware of that. You saw the breaking news from Silver City, too?"

Nobody had interrupted his work to do so, and he wasn't in the habit of keeping civilian news on in the background. “No. What broke?"

Whitt snorted. “We don't know yet. The mayor's office says they'll be putting out a statement with important information for residents, on the hour. I'm assuming evacuation orders, right?"

“I told her to stay calm. So… probably," Ellison admitted. “If we're lucky, it's just news about where to take casualties. How to store water and stuff like that. She said they hadn't been in contact with the Home Guard at all. I… politely suggested to John that he rectify that, but…"

John Devry had other things to deal with, and the Home Guard probably lacked representatives with every major city, if they hadn't bothered to set up contingency plans for the ones that were most exposed. He wondered if Surrey, for example—a large town in hardcore militia territory—was any more prepared.

Dave Whitt put Mayor Debord's broadcast on the terminal in Coble's office, and they watched it together. Debord's expression was tense. “As of now, 7PM tonight, forces from the Home Guard have left and Silver City is no longer being defended. Our constabulary has been given orders not to interfere with any occupying soldiers. I call upon—"

Coble's thoughts lagged slightly behind while he processed what Debord was saying. “What Home Guard forces? There wasn't any garrison. What the fuck did John tell her?"

“—spare us any unnecessary death or destruction. Citizens should understand I have no reason to believe they are in danger, but—"

“Major Coble, Captain Whitt. Sirs—flash traffic from GHQ." Whitt was closest; he took the tablet from the messenger as she summarized its contents. “They're under attack on the north side of the river. And they want to know why we're abandoning Silver City. The highway is going to be packed with evacuees."

Dave handed the tablet across the desk. “The 'attack' was an artillery strike on a checkpoint they were setting up. No casualties, but they lost a few more vehicles."

Coble dismissed the messenger, and stared balefully at where Debord was wrapping up her remarks. “She decided that one on her own. I'm not sure she ever spoke to Devry at all."

“Looks that way. It's Capella all over again."

The retreating Home Guard in the west had declared Capella lost with the moreaus still ten kilometers to the south, confusing everyone. Including, Coble imagined, the moreaus, who had yet to occupy the town. “Capella wasn't 58,000 people. Christ almighty. 'We lost the war when we failed to win it.'"

“Major?"

Ellison sighed, and pushed Max Kastner from his head. “Nothing. Call a staff meeting for an hour from now, and make sure we have the most current status from every command still talking to us. We need a plan for holding the line."