Dropship St George,

Britannia Guards' Landing Zone,

High Desert, Southern Continent,

The Rack,

The Periphery

The Guards' senior officers had assembled in the St George's wardroom, normally used for entertaining guests and other social occasions. However, on this occasion, the mood was sombre and the only drinks in evidence were water and fruit juice. Precentor Bainbridge's seat at the head of the long table remained empty, Keira O'Reilly taking her usual place on the right. Demi-Precentors Donohue and de Chastelaine sat opposite her. Filling the other places were the eighteen Level II unit commanders. A third of them had received field promotions after their unit commanders had been killed in action and were easy to spot from their nervous fidgeting.

O'Reilly took a sip of water and stood, her mind finalising the short speech she had been rehearsing for the last hour. She surveyed the table with a welcoming smile. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your attendance. The main purpose of this meeting is to debrief you, following our operation against the pirates and to inform you of our new orders".

"First of all, I'd like to start with some good news. The Indy's chief medical officer has reported Precentor Bainbridge is on his way to making a full recovery, though it will be some time before he pilots a mech again".

This was greeted with muted cheers from everyone present.

"The St James' medical team, as well as those on the Spitfire and City of London have reported all casualties are responding well to treatment, although some will be taking an extended break from active service".

There were more smiles and nods of relief. It appeared that, although equipment losses had been quite high, the human cost of their first deployment had been mercifully low.

One of the Adepts raised a hand. "That's excellent news ma'am, but a great many people, including myself, are wondering what is to happen to the prisoners?"

Another, seated opposite him, followed suit. "And what of the survivors we rescued from the base? How are we going to reunite them with their families if we're headed straight back to the Coalition?"

Keira took another swig of water and nodded acknowledgement of their questions. She tried to remind herself that these young officers were still on something of a high from coming safely through their first major combat assignment. She was also pleased to note the concern for those who had suffered at the pirates' hands.

"I was going to address those points next", she said, injecting just a hint of displeasure into her voice to remind them of proper protocol during staff meetings. Their sheepish looks told her they'd got the message.

"Our one and only stop on the way home is going to be at Hunters' Paradise, where we will contact the OCDF liaison and request they take our prisoners into custody. Although Precentor Arden technically has the authority to conduct criminal proceedings, given the nature of our new orders, we simply cannot afford the time such an undertaking would require. If the Outer Colonies will not take them, we will simply keep them imprisoned aboard the Indy until we return home and deliver them into the capable hands of our own judicial system".

She paused to collect her thoughts. "As to the people we rescued from the base, many are still too critical to be moved and they will have to remain with us, until they are well enough to be repatriated".

"What's our supply situation? We surely won't have enough to last the trip back with all these extra people, will we?" piped up a female officer.

O'Reilly frowned at the interruption. "We're going to be taking some short-cuts on the way back and we'll be making full use of the Indy's lithium fusion batteries to double-jump through as many systems as possible. Precentor Arden estimates we can cut the journey time to as little as six weeks".

She held her hands up to forestall any further questions. "It won't be entirely without risks. Precentor Arden has warned that lithium fusion batteries are not designed for sustained use. However, for reasons that will become clear shortly, it is imperative that we return to the Coalition with all possible haste. The people we rescued will be put in temporary accommodation on our return, until we can secure passage for them on civilian jumpships, back to their homeworlds".

She took another deep breath and her expression became grave. "Now, for the reason we're in such a hurry. A little over four hours ago, a Priority Alpha HPG transmission was received from Command".

She paused for a moment, wondering how to break the news, before deciding to just tell it as simply and clearly as possible. "A week ago, the Coalition came under attack by unidentified forces. Specifically, they've targeted Wellington, attacking our naval forces, before setting down outside Glastonbury. They've hit the Lancers pretty hard and were last reported pushing south to Taunton. The Halifax Hussars and Regent's Own made planet-fall three days ago but Wellington's main HPG went off-line shortly afterwards and no further reports have been received. Further attacks are expected".

Keira looked around the table, noting the uniformly wide-eyed, open-mouthed expressions of shock. You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that greeted the announcement.

"According to the navy, whoever these people are, they arrived in system with a small but powerful fleet. One of our destroyers tried to intercept them and was crippled…though not before getting a warning off and a description of the vessels".

She paused again, still having difficulty in assimilating the information herself.

"If the reports are correct, the enemy entered the Wellington system with a Potemkin dropship carrier, a McKenna battleship, a pair of Essex class destroyers and a Lola III". She gave them a moment to absorb that information.

"I'm reliably informed by Precentor Arden, they carry more firepower than the Coalition navy has in any of its four flotillas. The Potemkin alone can transport five Divisions' worth of troops…that's about half our total front line forces".

There was a protracted pause as everyone took time to mull over the information and tried to estimate the BCAF's chances of fighting off the invaders.

O'Reilly shook everyone from their thoughts by planting her glass down on the table loudly, making a few of them jump. "There'll be plenty of time for reflection on the trip home. Right now, what I need from each and every one of you, is to get your units in the best fighting shape they've ever been in. Have your techs and pilots work on their mechs until they know every square centimetre and the status of every system like the backs of their hands. I want to see the Indy's simulators worked overtime, running every offensive and defensive scenario in their databanks. Be careful though. We need our troops to be in the best shape of their lives, both physically and psychologically…we don't want them to start suffering from burnout. Make sure they get their rest too".

She stared round the table, making eye contact with each of them. "We've got six to eight weeks to recover, rebuild and improve our capabilities. I'm relying on you to make sure we're ready to do our part, when the time comes…dismissed".

There was an outbreak of subdued murmuring as the men and women, who, between them, commanded the Britannia Guards, pushed their chairs back, stood and made their way from the mess hall. Only Donohue and de Chastelaine remained. Patrick was the one to voice the question which had been on everyone's lips, but which had gone unspoken.

"Do you really think six to eight weeks is going to be enough time?" he asked.

"More to the point", interrupted Robyn, "Will there be anything left to fight for by the time we get back?"

Keira returned Patrick's steady gaze, her large emerald eyes glowing as they reflected light from the overhead fluorescent lamps. "It has to be, Pat", she said simply, "That's all the time we have".

She turned to de Chastelaine. "We can't think too much about that. If we start worrying about what's going on back home, it'll undermine our preparations. The troops won't be able to concentrate properly…morale and discipline will crumble. As I said, it's up to us to keep them focused, combat-ready and in good spirits. It's the only way we'll have a chance…"

With just six hours until Precentor Arden's deadline, the four dropships carrying the Guards and the mercenaries' transport, lifted off from the rock and scrub-littered desert, their engines glowing brightly in the darkening sky. According to the St George's pilot, they would rendezvous with the Indefatigable with four hours to spare, before heading homeward, towards an uncertain future...

THE END

(Look out for A Friend In Need II, which chronicles the invasion of the Coalition)