"Y-yes, my Lord. The Orionwas badly damaged, but retired from the field under its own power. My senior Tech estimates that seventy hours of work will put it back in service again and that all necessary parts and tools are available. My Maraudersuffered considerable damage to its armor, and its left arm PPC was knocked out Again, nothing that cannot be repaired in our facilities here. Of. twelve Galleons, four were destroyed."

"Not to mention one aircraft shot down," Nagumo interjected impatiently, "and the second so badly damaged it may not fly again." He was particularly worried about the losses to his AeroSpace Fighter force. First the losses during the battle in space, and now this....

"The enemy may be able to recover one or more of those tanks," he continued, almost to himself. "The report from the Xao'sCaptain suggests that two of the Galleons were merely trapped in mud. When the tide recedes, the rebels may be able to free them with the help from their ‘Mechs. Colonel, I fear this... this debacle will not look good on your record at all.”

“No, my Lord."

"In fact, I wonder if we shouldn't be looking for someone more...adaptable to lead your regiment.”

“As...as my Lord commands."

Nagumo appeared to consider, then smiled. The sight of the Governor General's teeth did not put Kevlavic at ease.

"No, Colonel. I believe that a man must learn from his mistakes. You will have another chance to demonstrate that you are capable of learning."

"Thank you, my Lord!"

"Not at all, not at all. In fact, I direct you to take as much of your regiment as you need to hunt these outsiders down. I want that ‘Mech unit destroyed, Colonel, before they can offer effective help to the insurgents. You are not to make any more assumptions about the enemy's abilities or weaknesses or strengths. Mistaken assumptions will lead you to underestimate him, to your sorrow. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Lord!"

"My patience will not extend to another disaster such as that at Hunter's Cape. You shall not fail me again. Clear?”

“Perfectly, my Lord!"

"Then go. I want a progress report from you daily and an operational plan by this time tomorrow. Dismissed."

* * * *

Use Martinez leaned over the table that had been improvised from a strip of sheet metal laid across a pair of upright steel drums on the beach. A freshening breeze from the sea and a darkening sky tugged at her curls. Grayson held the map they were examining flat between both hands. She straightened up, shaking her head.

"Captain, do you know what you're asking me to do?"

Grayson's glance shifted across to Brasednewic, who fingered the grip on the laser rifle slung over his shoulder and looked away.

His expression as much as said, This is your argument, not mine.

"Captain Martinez," Grayson began formally, "do you know what will happen if you don't?" Though not aboard her vessel, he used the title to remind her of the responsibility of her command. Which she's already aware of or she wouldn' toe so set against it,he thought

"The Phobosis a space ship,Captain," she said, "and, at the moment, not an especially good one. We've got the leaks fixed, but...."

"If we leave the Phoboswhere she is, the Dracos will be back," Grayson said. "And, this time, more of them. We lucked out today, lucked out plain and simple, because their attack wasn't coordinated, because they weren't expecting us to be ready for them, and because we had some help from Tollen and his people. If we stay here and fight them again, we'll be wiped out And if we take off inland with these people"—he stabbed at Brasednewic with a thumb—"how long do you think the Phoboswill remain intact?"

"She's safe enough from storms."

"I'm not talking about storms! Look, a DropShip is a small mountain of Star League technology and spare parts! Computers! Weapons! A fusion power plant and enough power module relays to run an army of BattleMechs! Conduits, piping, tubing, and wiring; semiconductors, superconductors, circuit boards, function chips, neural flow circuitry, and God knows what else! The Kurita commanders know a DropShip crashed here, and they know she's relatively intact. Intact enough to shoot down their AeroSpace Fighters! They'll have every DropShip they can muster back here, and an army to boot, just as quick as they can manage to gather the forces and fuel the ships! They'll expect us to salvage what we can, of course, but how much do you think we could salvage, starting now? How long do you think we have?"

"Nagumo is not slow about recovering other bits of technology," Brasednewic added. "If one of our ‘Mechs is abandoned or destroyed, he has Techs swarming over it within hours, even if we blow it with a self-destruct charge."

"They'd dismantle the Phobosfor the armor plate, if nothing else.” Grayson said.

"I know, I know. I don't want old Phobosto fall into their hands any more than you do..."

"Then you have to see that this is the only way! At worst, we sink the Phobosto the bottom of the Azure Sea, someplace where Kurita recovery craft can't possibly get at her!"

"What about my crew? I can't do this alone, you know!"

"It'll be dangerous. But you have a skimmer ready to take you all off. You'll abandon ship if you have to, but we've got to try!"

She turned from the map and gazed across the line of breakers at the Phobos.The tide had gone out since the battle, leaving a broad stretch of beach between them and the foaming breakers. The DropShip seemed higher in the water now that the tide was lower. The crude repairs to the gash in her hull were visible, layers of sheet metal and armor tack welded across the hole. Streams of water spewed from vents in her sides, indicating where damage control parties were at work pumping out the sea water that had flooded her lower decks after the crash. Small, blue-black clouds scudded beneath the lowering overcast.

"I don't think anyone has ever tried something like this before."

"That doesn't mean it can't be done!"

She turned again and looked at the map. It was laboriously hand-drawn, and Grayson wondered about its accuracy. Brasednewic had produced it when Grayson had asked him about the geography of the coastline.

"Okay, we're... where?"

With a grime-coated finger, Brasednewic indicated a strip of beach close by a hook of land jutting north into the sea. "Here. Hunter's Cape, it's called."

"And you want me to sail the Phobos—by sea!—all the way across to...here!"

Grayson nodded. 'To Ostafjord, yes. At the mouth of the Skraelingas River. The village of Westlee is here, across the bay."

"Five hundred kilometers!"

"More, since you'll have to skirt south of this island here."

"And you want to tear apart my reactor to do it..."

"Not 'tear apart!' Look—" He reached for a compad and stylus, illuminated the smooth data screen, and began sketching in lines of light. "The Phobosuses a small fusion reactor to heat and compress hydrogen up to the fusion point, with powerful magnetic fields to contain and direct what amounts to a small, controlled, and ongoing fusion explosion, right?"

"Very small, and a lot cleaner. Yes."

"Well, the design would also let you simply heat hydrogen, turn it into a super-heated gas, and blast that aft through the tubes as reaction mass. That was the principle of the first nuclear spacecraft. You pitch reaction mass aft, and it shoves the spacecraft forward."