The Phoenix Requiem (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 7) by Richard Sanders Page A

matter what else happened, Capital World was, she knew, the key to whatever hope humanity still possessed. It could not be allowed to fall. Not to the Dread Fleet, not to the Rotham, not to anyone.
    “I’m pleased to see that we are of one mind on the issue,” said the queen. “Which is why I am allowing you to retain command of your ship; in addition, I have a special assignment for you.”
    Ravinder was pleased to hear this, although she still felt undeserving, considering her failure. Whether or not the queen was willing to acknowledge it out loud, she must blame Ravinder for the loss of Centuria V. How could she not? “You are most generous, Your Majesty,” said Ravinder, bowing again, briefly. “I shall endeavor to fulfill any task you would ask of me.”
    “Your loyalty to the Empire, and to me, will not be forgotten,” said the queen. “I am giving you command of the re-organized Third Fleet. With it, it shall be your assignment, and great honor, to lead the charge against the enemy once they arrive.”
    It took Ravinder a moment to process what the queen had said. She was not particularly familiar with the Third Fleet. But, then again, the ships were all being re-assigned and so the various commanders in this new Third Fleet could be composed of just about anybody, she supposed. Then it occurred to her that the important part of the queen’s message hadn’t been which fleet Ravinder would command, or even that Ravinder would retain her status as a Fleet Admiral in an active way, but rather what the task was that the queen had just placed at her feet. Fitting , thought Ravinder, a death sentence …
    “You wish me to lead the vanguard against the Dread Fleet?” asked Ravinder, to clarify.
    “Yes,” said Kalila. “You have the experience of having gone up against them once already. You know what they are capable of. You know their weaknesses.”
    They don’t have any , thought Ravinder.
    The queen continued, if she noticed the dour expression that had crept over Ravinder’s face—despite the Fleet Admiral’s best efforts to maintain propriety—the queen gave no sign. “I want you to be the tip of our spear, Admiral,” said the queen.
    “Of course,” said Ravinder, knowing she had no choice. And, to an extent, believing this assignment had a kind of karmic justice to it. “I am happy to serve the Empire.” She narrowly avoided adding the phrase “with my death.”
    “You will command the Third Fleet and attack the Dread Fleet directly,” said the queen. “I have discussed the strategy with my advisors, and your objective is as follows: you will engage the enemy, draw their fire, and then withdraw. You will repeatedly charge against the enemy, and withdraw, so long as you are able, with the intention of getting as many of their ships to chase you off as you can. If we can divide the Dread Fleet into smaller pieces, it will weaken their Phalanx-shield and that will allow our starships to have a chance in a line-to-line star fight. Do you understand your mission?”
    “Loudly and clearly, Your Highness,” said Ravinder, again bowing. She wondered just how many of these charges and tactical withdrawals she and her forces would survive before being utterly destroyed. Two? Three possibly? Of course, despite the macabre nature of the assignment, Ravinder would execute her duty to the fullest. The Empire deserved nothing less. Especially given her personal failure at Centuria V. And, she had to admit, she understood the tactical advantage of drawing the Dread Fleet into smaller pieces, if it could be done.
    “Excellent,” said the queen. “I have given a general order to the various commanders assigned to the new Third Fleet to report to you; your staff, no doubt, is receiving their hails as we speak.”
    “That is most efficient and prudent, Your Majesty. I will deploy the forces you have entrusted me with to the best of my wisdom and ability, and I shall execute your orders to the letter,