1900 hours
...
Group Admiral Devgan Arvata stood on the upper deck of the Divine Ram, the last great ship of the Indiana fleet. A faint silver dome of magic shimmered above and around them. It was the final barrier—fifty ships joined together, their runes linked into one shield. The glow trembled every time a Bernard missile struck it.
Below the deck the crew worked in silence, faces pale and wet with sweat. Priests knelt at every corner, chanting to keep the barrier alive. Sparks of blue light ran across the planks with each word of their prayers.
Devgan felt the deck shudder as another missile exploded against the shield. The barrier flared white, then dimmed again. He could feel the drain in his bones, a pull like the tide.
"Keep formation," he said. "Tell the priests the Empire stands as long as this wall stands."
The officer saluted and hurried away.
Far across the smoke-covered water, the Bernard navy held a perfect arc.
