“Yes, Commander.” She could hear the enthusiasm in Wentus’s voice, seemingly pushing aside the officer’s earlier hesitancy. She wondered if it was sincere, or if it was nothing more than years of Alliance indoctrination. Ambitious officers did well to act as though they longed to be in battle, that facing and defeating an enemy was life’s greatest pleasure. Kat had long lived that mantra, but now she wondered if there might be more satisfaction in bringing her people home alive, returning them to loved ones.

She wondered what she truly wanted. More glory, bought at whatever cost in blood? Or to walk the rocky shores of Litora Montis, to hold her children close to her, to see them grow…and to know their mother as more than just a presence that passed in and out of their lives between campaigns. She understood such thoughts were dangerous. The way was the way, and that was all she needed to know, all any Alliance officer needed to know. She remembered her grandmother, the old woman’s remembrances of servitude, the stories Kat had heard about the days before the Rising. Her people were warriors for a reason, because they refused ever to be slaves again. But still, she found herself having to push back against idyllic images of home more and more often.

She was in battle, and victory here would surely launch her into the lofty ranks of the Alliance’s fleet commanders. Yet she couldn’t push away the thoughts of her son’s hugs, or the feel of her hand slipping through the soft silkiness of her daughter’s blond hair.

The way is the way…

She slowly, methodically, forced herself to focus, to set aside the distracting thoughts. Alliance culture said there was no time for such things, but even if there was, it clearly wasn’t now.

“All personnel at battlestations, Commander. Ready to execute full thrust operations.”

She’d shaken herself from her brooding, and Wentus’s words finished the job, cleared her mind.

“Execute,” she said, her voice grim, controlled. The warrior was back in charge, ready to do what had to be done. “Course directly toward the enemy vessel.”

“Yes, Commander. Interception course plotted. Engaging thrust now.”

She took a deep breath, preparing for the force of the engine’s thrust to hit her. It was a reflex by now, an unconscious act. The other thoughts were gone. Whatever questions she might have, or doubts, this was not the time. She was Katrine of the Rigelli, a Patrician, an Alliance warrior, and that was how she would behave. She carried the lives of her people on her every decision, even the future of her nation. And now she would do her duty. She would engage and destroy this Confederation battleship. Then she would hold Santis and its tritium production facilities until the fleet arrived.

Thus will be the spoils of my victory here. Another war, thousands more dead. Millions.