She frowned. The display was unchanged. Simulation number 43 was complete, and it yielded the same outcome as numbers 1-42: the defeat of Battle Group Sol, the complete destruction of Earth’s orbital defense platforms, and the annihilation of the Earth Defense Forces on the surface. The only discernable difference in this iteration was that the imagined invaders had employed poison gas, releasing it over the planet’s population centers. The results could only be called “overkill.” Once the Drengin had achieved space and air superiority, they had exterminated all human life on Earth in an estimated 45 hours.
Slowly, deliberately, she raised her index finger to the screen, and tapped the bottom right corner three times in quick succession. The monitor blinked off, and her reflection stared back at her from the now-black surface. But she did not see decorated Terran Starfleet officer Commodore Miriam Levy, CO of the mighty battleship TSS Jove. The woman she saw was small, powerless, vulnerable, almost brittle. The woman she saw was scared.
“And why shouldn’t I be?” she thought with a wry smile. The Jove had been heavily damaged in 12 simulations, and lost with all hands in the other 31. Her parents, her brothers, her niece, and all of her friends were numbered among the projected dead. And then her smile faded as she forced herself to confront the thought she had suppressed for days: David would die with them.
She exhaled slowly, ordering her tears not to fall. She was unaccustomed to having her orders disobeyed so blatantly.
Ever disciplined, Levy consciously invited anger to overtake her anguish. After all, everything about the situation was maddening. There was still time. He could be saved, they all could be saved! The Drengin fleet would need 2 weeks to travel to within striking distance of Earth, even with their reportedly advanced new engines, and she knew that her Battle Group could delay their landings for at least another week or so. In the space of three weeks billions of civilians could be evacuated to New Eden, or maybe even as far as the Altarian border worlds. It was blatantly obvious that their tactical position was untenable and dictated a strategic withdrawal. She had been shouting that argument at everyone from Fleet Admiral Rencheyev to the Secretary of War since the distress call came in from TSS Bellicose, but the decision had been made: there would be no retreat. Starfleet and the Earth Defense Forces would hold the Sol system “to the last man”, and the civilian populace would remain on Earth “in case conscription should become necessary.” The public was not to be warned until it was too late to escape; every taxpayer was to be drafted into the EDF “if need be.” Despite her objections, wireless contact between the CivCommNet and all military vessels and installations had been severed, to ensure that the appalling “plan” wasn’t leaked to the news media. Levy balled her hands into fists. “You’re killing my son!” she heard herself scream. As the sentence roared out of her, she wasn’t sure if she was accusing the policy-makers, or herself.
Slowly, she fought back the hysteria that was encroaching on her sanity. “If I can’t warn David about the invasion,” she reasoned aloud, “then I’ll just have to stop the damned thing before it begins.” And with that, Commodore Miriam Levy straightened her uniform, swept a wisp of hair out of her field of vision, and turned her terminal back on.
GalCiv2 Forums
. It reads fast and interesting, and I enjoy the style (comunications and such). Anyway, english not my first language so sorry for the incoherence, but you are writing a nice story to keep in my mind the next time those darn Drengin decide I am too poor to pay and to weak to defend myself and must be exterminated, heh. 
And don't worry, the story won't end until it ends. Don't worry about your English either. Seems peachy-keen to me.
