23 Chapter 23 :

Low Orbit, EX-5429 IIIa, Moon, 3rd of March 2119.

UNS Adjudicator, Bridge.

Time, 00:42

Admiral Brander Thraile

The Admiral watched, as ship after ship shot out of the space-time rift. Each vessel sharply stopping as they left the sparkling white sphere. And in there midst, an enourmous vessel. The Super-dreadnought, UNS Sol Invictus.

Thraile was both awed and fearful of the sight. There were so many ships it was hard not to feel afraid. Such a fleet had rarely been assembled.

A beeping sound went off behind him, he turned and saw his comms panel blinking.

Dutifully, he left the bridge's viewscreen and went over to his chair. He sat and accepted the call. Ten faces appeared. All the senior officers of the assembled Task Force, including Army. And in the centre, blond hair tumbling down her shoulders, the pale faced Admiral herself, Freya Marklund.

"Admirals, Commodores, Field Marhsal." she said, with the hint of a scandinavian accent, "Welcome to this meeting. This comittee will decide the deployement of our forces and our next course of action. Admiral Thraile, what is the situation?"

"We have lost three ships, although I can see now the new ones joining my FCS. The enemy seem to posess vastly superior ground forces, and have a net of 27 heavily armed orbital fortifications. Boarding will not be an option. However I believe we have the advantage of range and defensibility as they have only fired LRMs at us, and our CWIS took out most of them. As such I don't believe they are eager to reingage with what fleet I commanded, thus I think we have the advantage. For now at least. In any case, I don't think they could, or would, call a general mobilisation by the time you got here."

He kept to himself the fact that Elysium had left for the planet. Also that he knew the Commander's pod had just reported landfall on EX-5429 III.

"Thank you, Admiral. Is that all?"

"Yes I believe so."

"So, ladies and gentlemen. It seems we have a decision to make. What do you think of the situation."

The officers looked deep in thought, which was probably a front for "no idea". Finally, Rear Admiral Dornier, of the UNS Aquila, spoke up.

"We should strike now!" she exclaimed, slaming her fist on her control panel, making her image flicker, "Let's not give them time to rebuild or resupply. Let's strike again at the same place as you did, Thraile, punch through and establish a beachhead!"

"It's too risky." countered Dimitrievitch, with a heavy russian accent, "We cannot get enough men to the surface quickly enough. Not before whatever fleets they can muster will be brought upon us."

"But we can." smiled Mercer, "We can airdrop enough troops to cover a large area. These soldiers can link up to positions around, say a city, clearing it as they go through. We can then use destroyers to cover the detachables that will ferry fresh soldiers down to the surface, and the more seriously wounded men back to the cruisers's medbays."

Marklund smiled, and a sense of dread fell into Thraile's heart.

"But we still wouldn't know when to strike." said Samuelson.

There was general nodding.

"All in favor." asked Marklund.

Three hands went up. Marklund's, Dornier's and Mercer's. The Admiral of the Fleet seemed disappointed. "Very well, any other suggestions...?"