Unlike her predecessors running the EDF, now the CDF, Keah preferred to have a mobile command, engaging in practical exercises like this. The best times in her life had been aboard ships, doing hands-on military business, grooming herself for promotions and more command responsibility, while staying far away from offices and bureaucracy.
Nalani Keah was tall, six feet five inches, with long blue-black hair, Asian features blended with islander features (although she had, in fact, been born at the EDF base on Mars). Raised as a military brat, she had been transferred often in her youth, seen a lot of installations (all basically the same), made a lot of friends (although shallow ones), and enlisted, as expected.
The comm officer touched his implanted microphone. “Rheindic Co says all is well, General. Transportal functioning normally, travelers flowing through as usual. Oh, and they say thanks for checking on them.”
“All in a day’s work for the CDF, Mr. Aragao.” She turned to her sensor technician. “Lieutenant Saliba, please run a complete scan of the system. Keep your eyes open.”
The female sensor tech looked up. “For what purpose, General?”
Keah arched her eyebrows. “For the purpose of keeping you busy! Or would you rather use a fingerbrush to clean out every reclamation stall on this ship while contemplating why a bridge crew officer doesn’t have any business nitpicking orders?”
“I understand, General,” Saliba said, cowed. “I was only asking for clarification as to what you’re looking for, so I could adjust the sensors accordingly.”
“So you only search for what you’re already expecting to find? That’s a recipe for disaster.”
The woman flushed and looked away. “Scanning now, General. Looking for anything unusual… nothing. The system is clear.”
From the helm, Lieutenant Tait said, “Should I plot a course for the next system on our patrol route?”
“Don’t bother. We’re staying here.” Several members of the bridge crew almost asked why, but then remembered not to.
General Keah looked at the chronometer. Another ten minutes and she would be annoyed. “Come on, Z,” she muttered. “You’re spoiling my surprise.”
“General!” Saliba cried. “Sensor traces. Large ships just entered the system—seven of them. Checking sensor profile, matching configurations now. I’ll have an identification soon.”
“The fact that they’re traveling in a group of seven should give you a hint. Ildirans always travel in sevens.” Keah didn’t bother to hide her satisfied smile. “Battle stations!”
“Confirmed,” said Weapons Officer Patton. “Seven warliners, entering attack formation. Weapons powering up!”
“Defense protocol twelve—you’ve all been briefed, and you’ve run simulations. Remora pilots, to your spacecraft and prepare to launch.”
“But, General, we have no conflict with the Solar Navy—”
“Does it look like we have no conflict with them? Jazer banks active. Set shields on full.”
Mr. Aragao hovered over his communications station. “Should I open a commline, General? It’s… it’s Adar Zan’nh himself.”
“Only after we’ve got our defenses set. I don’t want the Kutuzov blasted to atoms while we’re saying hello.”
Her bridge crew scrambled to their duties, and the remaining ships in the CDF battle group took positions. The ten Manta cruisers spread out, shifting places, per orders, while the seven Ildiran warliners arrived in a precise wheel pattern, with the Adar’s flagship in the dead center. It was very pretty and strategically stupid, Keah thought. Just what she expected.
The commander of the Ildiran Solar Navy appeared on the screen. He wore his formal military jacket, bedecked with sparkling medals; his topknot had been arranged neatly in place. “General Nalani Keah.” His voice sounded flat and dry, as if he had recorded it himself earlier and practiced lip-syncing. “I am Adar Zan’nh.”
He was really getting into the show. Keah rolled her eyes at the absurd comment and couldn’t resist a comeback of her own. “I recognize you. I have a pack of Identify Famous Ildirans trading cards. It wouldn’t be complete without your picture.”
Zan’nh didn’t smile at the joke. “With this septa of warliners, I will seize your battle group and lay claim to the transportal nexus world Rheindic Co in the name of the Ildiran Empire.”
Her bridge crew couldn’t hold back their cries of dismay, groans, and even a few catcalls.
“I think not, Adar,” Keah said. “I could make my point by blowing you to pieces, but all that debris would form a navigational hazard around a perfectly viable world. I’ve got ten battleships here to your seven.”
Zan’nh was unimpressed. “My warliners outgun you.”
“My ships are still better. Mr. Patton, power up jazer banks. Remora squads, deploy according to your orders. Manta cruisers, take your new positions—just don’t hit each other.”
Six hundred Remora fighter craft spewed out of the launching bays of the ten CDF ships. The Mantas spun and circled while the gaudy alien warships remained in perfect, precise formation. Adar Zan’nh’s warliners extended their solar-panel wings, which made them look fierce and intimidating.
Keah just snorted. “It’s all for show, and it makes them bigger targets. Paint ‘em up. Fire at will!” Then she added, though it should not have been necessary, “And don’t forget, simulated charges only.” Most had figured out already that this was a joint war-game exercise, but considering how wound up her battle group was, the reminder didn’t hurt.
Three Manta cruisers rotated to take up blocking positions in front of the Kutuzov, which prevented Keah from firing as much as she liked, but since the object of the game was to disable and capture the opposing team’s flagship, it was strategically necessary to protect her Juggernaut at all costs.
The other seven Mantas, meanwhile, launched a flurry of potshots at their Ildiran counterparts. Hundreds of Remoras flew out like a maddened swarm of honeybees, completely random and unpredictable.
Keah leaned back in her command chair, watching. The bridge crew might as well learn something, she decided. “Ildirans can’t stand anything that has no pattern. By letting our pilots choose their own targets, and telling the Manta commanders to head toward the end-goal however they see fit, Adar Zan’nh can’t predict what he’s facing, nor can he formulate a defense on the fly. Believe me, this is an important lesson for the Ildirans.” She didn’t even try to hide her smile. “And I am very honored to teach him.”
Over the next hour, the tallies of hits and kills piled up. Once Remora pilots were struck and declared destroyed, they limped back to their launching bays. For a fully realistic scenario, the dead ships should have been left on the space battlefield, where they would become hazards, but General Keah didn’t want to overwhelm the Ildirans. Adar Zan’nh could learn one step at a time.
Although she lost five of her Mantas due to bombardment, their shields depleted, her Juggernaut was virtually unscathed. Four of the Solar Navy warliners were also offline, and the fifth one was nearly spent. The Adar’s flagship had been damaged as well, but not severely.
When General Keah finally grew tired of the game and decided to lock up her victory, she sent a tight signal to the three nearly depleted Mantas that huddled around the Kutuzov as a defense. “On my signal, drop out of the way. You’d better clear fast, or you’ll be in the crossfire and wreck my shot.” She turned to her weapons officer. “Mr. Patton, I want all of the Kutuzov’s jazers ready to fire at once, on my command. I don’t care if it depletes our batteries. One shot will be enough—if it works.”