More explosions speckled space as Cimeterres' fusion bottles failed. Almost three dozen of Javits' LACs were destroyed outright. Another four survived long enough for their remaining crewpeople to abandon ship.
"Wolverine Red Three, Wolverine One," he said harshly into his microphone. "You've got lifeguard. Pick up everyone you can. One, clear."
"Aye, Wolverine One. Red Three copies. Decelerating now."
Javits watched the designated squadron decelerate slightly-just enough to match vectors with the skinsuited crewmen who could no longer accelerate-and his eyes were hard. Under other circumstances, delaying to pick those people up would have represented an unacceptable risk. But at this range, and with the range already opening to the very edge of even Manticoran missiles' reach, it was a chance well worth taking.
And not just because of the "asset" those people represent, he thought. We left too many people too many places under the People's Republic. Not again-not on my watch. Not if there's any option at all.
He watched the plot's sidebars silently update themselves, listing his losses. They hurt. Thirty-eight ships represented over six percent of his total strength, and he'd known most of the four hundred people who'd been aboard them personally. But in the unforgiving calculus of war, that loss rate was not merely acceptable, it was low. Especially for LAC operations.
And we're outside their reach, now. We've confirmed what they're deploying for system defense, but they're not going to waste more missiles on us. Not at this range... and not when they can't be certain what else may be waiting to pounce if they fire off all their birds.