Dej looked at the Executor curiously. “How do you know?”
Two continued, as if the question had not been asked. “It would seem the aliens now have one sufficient entrance point. Given the abilities of this platform’s autocannons, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume they will use it to insert all available forces.”
Dej nodded. “We’d best reinforce it, then, eh?”
Two didn’t respond. It was, after all, a stupid question. Civilians, even outfitted with weapons, were little good in actual, open combat, where tactics played a vital role; but clustered at a single, urban chokepoint, with so much room to hide and so much numerical superiority, they were a tactical nightmare. Dej began speaking into a communicator.
“How do we know that they won’t really orbitally bombard?” The fat Administrator asked nervously, tugging at his collar. He was seemingly oblivious to the tactical conversation going on around him.
“That is not the way of the Coalition,” Two said. “They are idealist, yes, but also cowards. They have no understanding of the way of things; the things one must do to accomplish goals which supercede sentient ‘morality.’”
The Administrator did not look convinced.
“They won’t,” Dej assured him with a smirk, and glanced at one of the many surveillance relays which punctuated the command room. On it, surrounded by the twisted hulks of destroyed autocannons, one transport’s worth of Outer-Rim Sovereignty forces rushed forward. “Well, there are our friends now. Let’s greet them, shall we?”
This time, Two did respond. “Yes, indeed.”
And the ORS troops were struck with a hail of laserfire. On the open platform, with no cover in sight, with fire coming from the buildings all around the area and from in the one building actually connecting the ramp to the city, the barrage would be devastating.
