When General Keah gave the order, the Mantas fell away and accelerated, leaving the Kutuzov exposed—and ready to fire. “Now!”
The Juggernaut’s full array of energy weapons painted the flagship warliner, running down the Adar’s remaining score within seconds. Keah smiled and mouthed, “Boom!”
After the engagement, it was her turn to invite Zan’nh over to the Kutuzov. When the Adar arrived, he was accompanied by an entourage of peskily eager attender kith who carried a display case half a meter on a side. Zan’nh presented to her an exact replica of a Solar Navy warliner, suspended in an energy field that kept it positioned inside the case.
She accepted the gift and invited him into her captain’s suite. “My ship models sit on plastic stands, Z. This will be a very nice addition.” She set the warliner replica on her shelf in a place of honor (actually the empty place where her model of the Merrimack had sat before she surrendered it to the Adar).
During their previous practice engagements, Keah and Zan’nh had established a tradition that the loser would present an interesting gift to the victor. So far, General Keah had given the Adar two of her favorite sailing-ship models. She had lost the first two engagements, simply because she wasn’t familiar with Ildiran Solar Navy techniques. Once she figured out the Adar’s pattern, though, she beat him in the next four engagements.
The attenders remained out in the corridor so she and the Adar could have a private conversation. Closing the stateroom door, Keah gave him a frank assessment. “You worry too much about the show, Z.” She tossed her long hair back and regarded him with her jade-green eyes. “In a real battle you should figure out how to win—not how to show off. Do whatever it takes.”
“For the Solar Navy, the show itself has often been the victory,” he said.
“That may be fine in times of peace, but you were there and you remember—neither the Hansa nor the Ildiran Empire were prepared when the hydrogues started attacking planets.” She unsealed her bureau drawer with a thumbprint lock and pulled out an old facsimile journal. She held it for a moment, wistful, then handed it to him. “Have this translated by one of your rememberers—it’s an actual journal from the original General Kutuzov describing his strategic philosophy. It was written after Borodinō.”
“You do not owe me a gift. You won our engagement.”
“You’re my friend, Z. If I find something interesting and want to share it with you, then shut up and accept it.”
The two of them had spent hours engaged in reenactment simulations, using the starting parameters of old Earth campaigns and then playing out the battles with their own insights. Keah was keen to see if she could do better than history’s great military commanders. Of course, she had the advantage of knowing what those commanders had done wrong, but there was nothing wrong with learning from the best.
During the dramatic final showdown with the Klikiss fleet twenty years ago, Keah had operated entirely on instinct. She had made a name for herself that day, leaping into the bridge chair when her commanding officer was killed. Now, after decades of peace, she still remembered the heat of combat, and she didn’t want to let her guard down—which was why she also studied the Ildiran military. Adar Zan’nh was faced with a similar challenge, to keep his Solar Navy from growing stagnant.
She opened a bottle of her favorite wine and poured them each a glass. “Neither one of us wants our military to become just a showpiece, Z.” She clinked her glass against his. She sipped, savored the smooth red wine.
Zan’nh didn’t much care for wine, but he drank it out of politeness. He said, “Even though our wars have ended, General, the universe is not a peaceful place. There are hazards and dangers that have nothing to do with actual enemies, and our personnel need to know how to respond.”
Keah got down to business. “I’ve identified three potential enemies that I’m forced to think about.”
“Three?”
She set down her wineglass and ticked them off on her fingers. “First, there may be internal struggles in the Confederation. Planets have their independence, and we have the Confederation Charter, but that isn’t going to stop squabbling. It’s just human nature.”
The Adar seemed amused. “Human nature? Fortunately we don’t suffer from that failing. With the telepathic thism that connects us all and with the guidance of our Mage-Imperator, squabbling rarely happens among Ildirans.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Oh? Didn’t your mad Designate start a civil war not long ago?”
“That was… an unusual thing.” Embarrassed, he sipped his wine again. “What is the second threat?”
“The second threat—and my apologies, Z, but we must be realistic—the Confederation could clash with the Ildiran Empire. I don’t know how or why, but it’s a possibility. So it’s my job to make sure my CDF ships can kick the Solar Navy’s butt.”
Zan’nh chuckled. “You can try, General, but you’re not likely to succeed.”
“Today’s results suggest otherwise. That’s the point of war games.”
“And the third threat?” he pressed.
“Third, is something we can’t even guess—like the appearance of the hydrogues or the faeros. A totally unexpected enemy.”
“We can be vigilant against such a threat. But if we know nothing about it, how can we prepare?”
“We’ll have to learn that on the fly.” She smiled. “I look forward to our next mission together, Z.”
TWENTY-ONE
TAL GALE’NH
The Kolpraxa headed into uncharted space, cutting through the emptiness. In the command nucleus under the open dome showing the vast universe, Tal Gale’nh let himself enjoy the sense of wonder. The unknown was so compelling.
Outside the Spiral Arm, the stars were sparser, and space was emptier, almost devoid of light. The hundreds of Ildiran crewmembers aboard the exploration ship experienced flickers of uneasiness to be so alone, so far from the Empire. Gale’nh felt the tingle of their fear through the thism, but he was strong. He hoped that they could also feel his excitement.
Ildirans were joined with faint racial telepathy, the thism. Their minds had a synergy, their presence was bound together in a complex mental network. Like a gossamer safety net, thism embraced every member of the race and tied them all together. And every strand led back to the Mage-Imperator.
Gale’nh’s mother had told him stories about Earth’s generation ships dispatched centuries ago, following an astonishingly thin thread of hope as they ventured slow and blind in search of other habitable worlds. They knew their journeys would likely take more than a century. In light of what Nira’s people had done, Gale’nh thought, the Kolpraxa’s mission was not so daunting.
Rememberer Ko’sh stood beside him. The screens showed denser stars in a river of celestial light below. “All the stars in the Ildiran Empire are there beneath us. We are so far from them. It makes the rest of space seem emptier.”
Gale’nh raised his chin and gave the tall rememberer a confident smile. “Who else in all of history has had a grander view? Does even the Mage-Imperator have a perspective like this?”
“A valuable insight, Tal… a different way of looking at the darkness to distract us all from our fear.”
“What is there to fear?”
“The darkness. That fear is in our genes, since Ildirans evolved on a planet always bathed in daylight. Only when we ventured to other worlds and star systems did we learn that night even existed.”