Rebel by David Weber & Richard Fox

Author:David Weber & Richard Fox [Weber, David && Fox, Richard & Weber, David && Fox, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Science Fiction, Military, Action & Adventure, Space Opera
ISBN: 9781625799821
Google: gDQQEQAAQBAJ
Publisher: Baen Books
Published: 2024-09-03T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Jalal Station

Jalal System

Terran Federation

December 9, 2552

“So, those are the figures,” Harrison O’Hanraghty said, tipping back in his chair in Terrence Murphy’s comfortable suite, one deck up from Jalal Station’s Central Command. “I wish to hell your brother-in-law had been even a bit more reasonable, but it could’ve been worse.”

“It was plenty bad enough for me,” Murphy said grimly. “There were over a hundred and fifty thousand Federation personnel aboard his battleships and battlecruisers, Harry. And another thirty-five hundred aboard just the FTLCs we destroyed outright. We killed somewhere over a hundred thousand of them. I don’t see how it could have been a lot worse.”

“We could have lost,” O’Hanraghty said flatly. “In which case, the death toll would have been just as bad—if not worse—and your precious brother-in-law would have moved on to K-strike Crann Bethadh.”

He held Murphy’s eyes steadily, unflinchingly. Silence hovered between them for a long, tense moment, and then, unhappily, Murphy nodded.

“I know, Harry. I know!” He leaned back, his expression inexpressibly weary. “I hoped—prayed—it wouldn’t come to this. But deep inside, I was always afraid it would. I think a coward part of me had to pretend I might be able to avoid it or I could never have even started this.”

O’Hanraghty started a quick reply, then made himself stop. He suspected no one else in the entire galaxy knew Terrence Murphy as well as he did…including Terrence Murphy himself. There were things Murphy wasn’t comfortable admitting about himself to himself, like the unflinching integrity, the absolute inability to evade his duty, that was the wellspring of his personality. The one thing Harrison O’Hanraghty had never seen anywhere in Terrence Murphy’s makeup was a scrap of cowardice.

But, of course, that wasn’t something he could say. Especially not at a moment like this.

“Well,” he said instead, “it did happen, and pissed as I am at dear Rajenda, I doubt anybody else they sent would have been any more reasonable. And it does say some interesting things about the current balance of power, doesn’t it?”

Murphy snorted, but he had to nod.

He’d arrived at Jalal Station with twelve FTLCs. He’d added Clarence Maddox’s three carriers to his force, and two more carriers—all but one of the uncounted-for pickets in the Concordia and Acera sectors—had arrived to join him less than thirty-six hours after the battle.

And then there was TF 804.

Rajenda’s parasites had been virtually annihilated, and four of his carriers had been destroyed or so brutally damaged there was zero chance they might be repairable. Of the remaining twenty-one, six had surrendered virtually undamaged, seven had taken damage but remained combat effective, and eight had been at least half wrecked. All of that last group were still FTL-capable (or could be made that way out of Jalal’s resources), although their speed in wormhole space would be on the low side, but no one could conceivably consider them fit for action. They’d need the services of a fully equipped shipyard for that.

Effectively, however, Murphy now commanded thirty-three FTLCs, counting Harriet Granger’s detached command.

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