“Good call,” Marcum nodded, still speaking quietly. “They can’t do anything out there, better get them as far away as possible while they have the chance.” Bespitd Station was a Fleet munitions depot, specifically storing Shrike and Hornet missiles. It was simply a waypoint that ships would stop at on the way out of the system, have the specialized shuttles ferry over their loadout, and then accelerate to transition velocity and hit the Columbiana jump point or come about and circle the system for the other departure vectors.

The thought was to keep the bulk of the dangerous munitions off New Sierra Platform and away from both the populated planets in the system. It had a minimal maintenance crew and, like the com drone platform, was just something that was always in the background and not given much thought. It also had zero defensive capabilities. Fourth Fleet had built the station and had not given a single thought to the fact that someone might actually attack the DeLonges System. Everett knew there was no defending the station for those aboard it so he didn’t bother trying, instead giving them the order to get into the boats and shove off. Maybe they’d outrun the destruction coming if the Darshik opened fire on the depot.

“This isn’t good, sir,” Everett muttered. “We’re flying in with only close range weapons, the rest of the fleet is so far down the well it’ll take them the better part of two days to get out here, and we’re likely about to lose a sizable chunk of missiles we’d probably like to put into Darshik hulls.”

“And we’re still in better shape than when the Phage first came knocking,” Marcum said. “I wouldn’t—”

“We must protect that last Ushin ship!”

Marcum and Everett turned and looked at the same time to see a wild-eyed Ambassador Cole running onto the bridge with the Marine sentry in hot pursuit.

“Our first priority will be to—”

“You don’t understand, Admiral!” Cole shook his head. “They need us far more than we need them … and they’re willing to pay dearly for that. This could change the balance of power in this region of space, but if the entire contingent is wiped out it may all be for naught.”

Marcum’s nostrils flared as he tried to control his temper, enraged that a diplomat barged onto the bridge of his flagship during combat operations and started barking orders. But the admiral—the CENTCOM Chief of Staff, no less—was as much a political animal as the ambassador was.

“You’re certain of this?” Marcum demanded harshly. “This is worth the risk to human lives?”

“I have a recording of the conversation.” Cole’s head bobbed up and down. “The Ushin will still honor it even though their ambassador has apparently been killed.”

“Captain?” Marcum said.