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Roose reeled at the news. His body physically recoiling as, for a moment only, he lost the composure befitting an officer.
"The marines will not be dispatched?" he said. He repeated the statement last spoken by Captain Antor, turned with inflection into a question.
"They shall not, Lieutenant," said Antor.
"What of the Greshians?"
They will not enter the Kingdoms as previously assumed. The Admiral does not shirk his orders. It appears he merely hid the intent of them from us for a short while."
Roose thought of the journey over, light years passed in an instant of hyperspace. The relay had been newly minted in the Greshod system. It was thought the planet would make a wonderful addition to the Kingdoms. Admiral Thrace apparently thought otherwise. Antor did not answer Roose's question though, and the young lieutenant noted it. He answered for himself. The Greshians would not survive their encounter with the Kingdoms.
"You will follow your orders, Lieutenant," said Antor. A question disguised as an order.
"Of course, sir," said Roose with a salute. The captain left and Roose was left alone with his thoughts. His orders would be sent to his console, but he did not feel the need to review them now. He had too much in his mind and the Cremiate - the Executor class, flagship of the Kingdoms' navy in which they flew - would not reach Greshod for another few hours.
Lieutenant Roose walked the halls of the Cremiate in thought. Whether intentional or at the will of something greater, he walked towards the marine barracks.
"It’ll be a pleasure capital!" laughed one of the marines, talking in a group. "Casinos and dancing and shows. Greshod is perfect. And we get the first leave of the land after we storm it." The group laughed and encouraged each other.
Marines were first in, last out. Their stormships landed with thunder and fire and put boots on the ground faster than anything in the galaxy. Roose had only read of three systems which held off the Kingdoms' marines without near immediate surrender.
"It's a pity they don't join willingly," said a Marine.
"Pity? If they did, we wouldn’t get there first," replied another.
"And we wouldn't get some shooting in," said another. They all laughed.
Planets rarely joined the Kingdoms willingly. Their minds often changed rather quickly with the appearance of an Executor class ship though.
Roose still couldn't imagine a reason the marines would not be deployed. It meant total destruction of Greshod, or it meant total peace. The Kingdoms did not deal with any other outcome, and they rarely got peace without force.
Total destruction then.
Roose shook his head. Greshod was a paradise, for more than the carousing the marines spoke of. It was nearly utopian for its residents. That utopia may be built on the backs of off planet resources, but what utopia wasn’t. Each planet and system worked together to create the Kingdoms. Was it really so different for those outside?
After his lap, Roose reached his bunk. He shared quarters with the other young officers aboard the ship. Most of them were pilots, officers in rank only. They were the enlisted of the skies, looked down on by command and by the marines.
It was rare to find the quarters empty. Many of the pilots kept with their own. They weren't empty now, but there were only a few people milling about and Roose felt comfortable opening up his orders.
"You see the mission?" came a voice, startling Roose as he was opening up his console.
Roose turned and saw Velst, another pilot. Not quite a friend, but that shade more intimate than merely a colleague.
"No, but I’ve heard enough to guess," said Roose.
"I can't believe we'll just wipe them out."
"What's the plan?"
"Read your orders, but they should be the same as mine. We're flying in the same wing on this one."
"Defending the Cremiate?"
"Bombing run." said Velst, face grim.
"Bombing?"
"We'll drop out of hyperspace before the Cremiate, in the asteroid belt that borders Greshod."
"No," said Roose, realizing again what was about to be asked of him.
"The Admiral doesn't wish to waste any resources he does not have to," said Velst. "Sixteen of us will move rocks deemed large enough into a path terminating with Greshod. Wings one through six will defend the paths of the rocks, though they expect little resistance, and we will move as many as possible within the hour before returning to the Cremiate."
"What if they surrender?" said Roose. Velst turned away slightly, looking out beyond Roose and looking at nothing at all.
"We can't do this, said Roose.
"We have to," said Velst. "They're orders."
The other lieutenant walked away, giving Roose time to review the orders. Velst was exactly right about Roose's position in the attack.
He did nothing until the call came for the bombing wing to appear at their stations.
There was nothing he could do.
They were orders.
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