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An hour later, you were back on the ground and in the camp. The short-lived battle was over.
Your ears were still ringing, and they stung with frostbite. While the whole camp rejoiced and chanted “Long live the Praētor!” and recited hymns for the Empire, you were silent. Your body ached as if it had been beaten repeatedly in a gruelling pitch all day, and yet it was hardly so - the day was just beginning.
Perhaps it was the sheer awe of having fought, stormed, and won over enemy ships twenty thousand feet up in the sky, over an oxygen moon, between Regensburg and the falling stars for the first time - the awe of which was still transfixing your spirit like heady wine, and to add to that, victory. Spectacles like this were known to set the souls of men of fire, dazzled them, made them believe in gods and every heavenly promise.
On the other hand, stoic and Faustian trooper that you are, first of a file of young but foolish troopers whom you now must watch over in place of your last sergeant, you are unable to lose yourself in happiness just yet.
“You fought well.”
The Sith Commander remarked. You are inside her marquee tent, a palace far warmer than your own bivouac. Far more furnished, smelt of coffee and ion lamps, with woollen rugs instead of a trod floor, a contrast with your quarters that was bitter. After the few officers had finished reporting, they were dismissed. You and the Sith are alone once more, save for her secretary in the antechamber hard at work with a tablet, editing her dictations for a bulletin.
“My scouts are in the air combing the countryside for runaway Coalitionists. We have captured all three cruisers, and a detachment of our fighters are pursuing the remnants of the Rosenberg brigade’s air force away. This is a fine tactical victory for us.”
The Sith did not sit down at her table. She stood, looking at you with perceptive blue eyes.
“I know you must be wondering, ‘how many more?’ I shall tell you, Sergeant: many more. We must fight long and hard. We have won a battle, no more, but no less. To win this war and save our worlds, we must persevere...”
The Sith tilts her head. This is a habit of hers you came to notice often now. She smiles, as if trying to console you, and approaches:
“I can see that you are tired. Do not think so much - we have won, Sergeant. You may rest easy for now.”
