Jessica watched her boards like a mother hen, but there was nothing to do at this point. One standard Administrative shuttle separating from the larger dot that was Auberon, immediately initiating a deorbit burn. It didn’t even make any noise leaving, not having to be fired out of a tube, as were fighters and missiles.
Text scrolled across the bottom of her screen, because that was how Command Flight Centurion Iskra Vlahovic was. Never use a radio if a marquee would do. Some days, Jessica wanted to confiscate Iskra’s keyboard, just to make her speak out loud.
Probably doomed to failure. Iskra would learn sign language and everything would suddenly be video, or something.
Stubborn did not run three meters thick on that flight deck. Not at all.
Bhattacharya and party away.
Not that it was much of a party. One of Amala’s men with her as a bodyguard. Another as a specialist. A few others thrown in, more as shuttle ballast than anything else.
Senior Centurion Bhattacharya would be on her own very shortly.
Jessica looked up and caught both Enej and Casey studying her.
“Anything?” she asked, aware that they had been watching and listening for the better part of two hours.
Nothing had changed.
“Ground control sensors are tracking her and us,” Casey said. “Civilian system with a soft, communications-only lock on everyone in orbit. We’re not special.”
How to best level a calculated insult at an invader? Ignore her completely. Go on with your day as if nothing has happened. Possibly hand them a freshly-baked cookie when the tray came out of the oven, and pat them on the head.
It had that feel to it.
Jessica could imagine an Imperial squadron blowing something up right now for no better reason than they felt insulted by such treatment and needed to throw their weight around. Wanted to provoke someone.
But all the intelligence had said that Buran only responded. Rarely initiated. Hopefully, she wasn’t reading too much into that. Thuringwell’s population on the fateful day had been one-fiftieth of Trusski’s today, and she didn’t have a wall of Assault Carriers bringing in ground Legions to try to occupy or pacify the planet.
It would have been a stupid idea anyway. She wasn’t staying here any longer than she needed to, in order to make a point.
Draw them in and make them dance to her tune. 2218 Svati Prime writ large.
One small force, relatively, making a larger one react and maneuver.
Salamanca and the Iron Duke, on a galactic scale.
If she could pull it off.
Or at least give Emmerich Wachturm a year of space to build up new forces, and to purge the fleet of the traitors that had almost given Buran the entire empire on a plate a year ago.
“Enej, you have the flag,” Jessica said, rising and stretching the kinks out of her back and legs.
She had been tenser than she thought, waiting while nothing happened.
“You know the general plan,” she continued as he nodded up at her. “No later than twenty-four hours from now, we will withdraw from orbit and meet up with the rest of the squadron, and possibly the fleet, depending. Don’t be afraid to run at the slightest need. Denis already knows that, as does Kigali, so they won’t argue with you. We can always bring Robbie, Alber’, and Tamara down to engage later.”
“Roger that,” he said, touching tabs on his board.
Jessica nodded to Marcelle and headed for the hatch. There was nothing she could do at this point but paperwork, the never-ending battle. Either they had surprise and could move at their own pace, or all hell was about to break loose. If that happened, Yan would get to see firsthand if all his design decisions had been good.
Jessica would be happy not knowing. Not today.
Amala was about to land in the lion’s den.