Vorgens worked constantly, almost without rest, living on stimulants, cajoling Aikens, persuading the Shinarians to trust the Terrans.
With the Shinarians taking over a good part of theirn defense, and with Merdon’s fighters providing reconnaissance and intelligence, the Terrans were able to meet the Komani on their own terms. When a Komani raiding party headed for a town, it would be intercepted by a fast, strong squadron of battle cruisers. Fanning villages became little fortresses dotting the countryside, often with a Terran dreadnaught camped in the village square. Komani columns were ambushed. When Okatar massed his strength and tried to force a pitched battle, he found that the Terrans could also disperse and disappear into the countryside.
The Komani still outnumbered the Imperial troops on Shinar. But whenever the Terrans struck, they usually had superior strength at that particular place for that brief time.
It was a war of attrition, with fatigue and hunger and mechanical breakdown playing as important a role as weapons.
“We’re failing,” Vorgens said tiredly. “We’re failing miserably.”
He was sitting at the head of the green-covered table in the officers’ wardroom of the command dreadnaught. Grouped around the table were Merdon, Brigadier Aikens, the exec. Sergeant Mclntyre, and a few other officers.
“I wouldn’t say that. Watchman,” the brigadier objected. “”We’re holding our own against the barbarians.”
“We’ve beaten off most of their attacks. The people are learning to defend themselves.” Merdon agreed.