Good Sense of Guard

When Augustus returned to Raynor's flagship, the Deadwater Marshal, enormous black shadows were moving everywhere above and below. Countless warships sailed abreast at close range. Several late-arriving Imperial vessels streaked overhead, trailing fusion flames miles long, while formations of suddenly accelerating Vikings cracked the air with terrifying sonic booms, flashing past like steel birds borne aloft by fire.

More than sixteen hundred Imperial capital ships had taken part in this battle, along with tens of thousands of other vessels of every kind and countless craft large and small. But the fleets now arriving from all across the Aiur System were no longer as magnificent as they had once been.

Still, though most were in poor condition, the surviving battlecruisers numbered far more than the two or three hundred Augustus had expected.

More than six hundred and twenty capital ships had already reached the rendezvous point. Including the Umojan and Kel-Morian warships, that number rose to eight hundred. And even now, many ships were reporting that they were on their way or that they could not yet break free from fierce fighting.

Based on the responses coming through the fleet communications channels, the Empire alone still had between seven hundred and fifty and eight hundred and fifty warships capable of continuing the fight.

That actually made Augustus feel somewhat fortunate.

How Augustus wished they could pack up and leave right now, but the war was not over yet.

The Golden Armada had withdrawn from Amon's forces, but the swarm had not.

"Jimmy, you were too slow. Traffic jam on the way here?"

As Tychus charged into the Deadwater Marshal headfirst, Augustus nodded in greeting to the officers on the bridge who were saluting him.

This warship had been named in memory of Deadwater Base on Mar Sara. Later, it had replaced