Death in Winter - Michael Jan Friedman [98]
At first, Donatra thought she had misheard. Then she saw the stricken look on the face of her officers, and realized she had heard correctly after all.
“It’s a lie,” she spat.
But even as she said it, she knew she was wrong. Braeg trusted Herran with everything. He would never have reported such a thing if it were not true.
“What else does he say?” she asked Oritas.
He gave her the grim details-the speech Braeg had made in Victory Square, the arrival of Tal’aura’s centurions, Braeg’s counterstroke, and then the appearance of…
Hovercraft? Donatra swore to herself.
They had killed indiscrimately, not just Braeg’s men but innocents as well. The ground had run green with their blood.
Unable to stop the craft any other way, Braeg had waded through the crowd and surrendered himself to Tal’aura’s guardsmen. Seeing him give himself up, his men had turned and tried to escape. Many of them had made it, Herran included, though the praetor was in the process of hunting them down.
Donatra felt her throat constrict. Braeg had sacrificed himself for the good of those in the square. And now he was Tal’aura’s prisoner, to do with as she wished.
She wouldn’t allow him to live. She couldn’t. He had proven himself too dangerous a foe.
Donatra had believed they would have all the time in the world some day. But not anymore. Clenching her fist, she smashed her armrest with it.
Braeg’s only chance now was for Donatra to cripple Tomalak’s defense forces-and to do it as quickly as possible. But Tomalak’s tactics were designed to slow them down.
Which meant they would have to take more chances than ever. “Give me a link to Suran,” she told Oritas.
“Commander,” said her tactical officer, her voice taut with urgency, “there’a a warbird bearing down on us. It appears to be Commander Tomalak’s.”
Donatra’s jaw clenched. Apparently, Tomalak didn’t feel compelled to be as evasive as the rest of his commanders.
It was all right. She couldn’t win without going through Tomalak anyway. He was simply making it easier for her to find him.
Of course, Tomalak was widely considered the craftiest commander of his generation. As good as Donatra was, Tomalak was reputed to be better.
She lifted her chin as she watched his warbird loom larger on her screen. We will see about that.
After all, Donatra had studied accounts of Tomalak’s exploits, committed to memory his favorite maneuvers-which was how she had broken up his initial defense formation. All she had to do was see which approach he took, and then react to it.
“Lock weapons,” she said. “Wait for my order to fire.”
“Weapons locked,” came the response.
Patience, Donatra told herself firmly, no matter the urgency of the situation.
And indeed, she waited as long as she could to see which way Tomalak would veer off. But the longer she waited, the more certain she became that he wouldn’t veer off at all.
A direct attack, without subtlety or nuance? From someone as well regarded as Tomalak?
It didn’t seem possible. And yet, the evidence was right there in front of her.
She couldn’t wait any longer. In a couple of seconds, the enemy would ram her. “Fire!”
Finally Tomalak’s vessel veered off, but not before he unleashed a barrage of his own. Donatra braced herself as her screen went pale green. A moment later, the impact sent her ship lurching to starboard. Behind her, a control console exploded.
“Report!” she barked.
“Shields down eighty-four percent, Commander!”
“Weapons and propulsion still fully operational!”
At the same time Donatra’s screen cleared and she got a look at her adversary. Tomalak’s ship couldn’t have been damaged much worse than hers, but it was retreating as if the Valdore had made it impossible for her to fight.
Donatra didn’t understand. Why would Tomalak attack her head-on- and then run? It wasn’t at all the behavior of the master strategist she had studied.
Suddenly the answer dawned on her, sending a tingle of dread down her spine. But by then it was too late, because her tactical officer was already shouting a warning.