CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Second Admiral Xing stood facing a sealed shuttle hatch, her hands clasped behind her back. Her staff sat in rows along the bulkheads, all still strapped in. She felt the slight vibration of the shuttle’s maneuvering thrusters through the soles of her feet and unclasped her hands to key her wrist comm.
“Than…what is taking so goddamned long?” she snapped.
“One moment, Ma’am,” a voice replied in her earbud. “Your shuttle’s coming in on remote.”
“You locked me in your ship for the entire voyage. Didn’t tell me where the hell we were going or how long it would take to get there. Now we’ve arrived, and my staff and I can’t even look out of a porthole? How, exactly, do you justify treating your commanding officer like this?”
“The First Admiral established this protocol, Ma’am. It will all make more sense very soon. Also, your staff isn’t allowed off the shuttle until we have final approval.”
“Approval? Approval from whom?!” Xing’s face contorted with anger, then snapped back to neutral. “But you said ‘soon.’ How soon?”
The shuttle’s rumble as its landing gear hit a deck answered her question. Her staff began unbuckling, but she shook her head.
“Wait here, Yong-Gi. Than’s found one more hoop for me to jump through.” Zhang cracked her knuckles. “We’ll be done with him before too long.”
“As you wish, Second Admiral,” her chief of staff said.
The hatch slid open and the shuttle ramp lowered to the floor of what was obviously a shipboard hangar, empty of any other craft. Only Than was there to meet her. She strode down the ramp and jumped off the end before the edge could set down.
“Welcome to Diyu, Ma’am,” Than said.
“Really?” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “A system named ‘Hell’?”
“It used to be call Yuxi,” Than said.
“Never heard of it.”
“Not surprising. We renamed it for all official correspondence as another security measure,” Than told her. “It’s an absolutely useless star in the middle of nowhere. That’s one of the things that made it perfect for Project Astra. But the new name’s appropriate enough in a lot of ways, including the fact that there’s no going home until Project Astra’s completed. If you’ll come this way?”
“My staff has a bet going that this is all an elaborate joke,” she said as he led the way toward a set of double doors. “Are they right?”
Than touched a remote on his wrist and the shuttle ramp lifted as the hatch sealed behind them.
“How did you bet?” he asked.
“They didn’t include me in the pool, but I still know about it.”
“It’s not a joke,” Than assured her. “But our partner in this project has a number of security protocols. We’ve found it best to cooperate—it removes a good deal of the friction.” They reached the doors, and he tapped a long code into a panel. “Only a few dozen people in the League know the full extent of Project Astra.”
“I’m a bit perturbed that I’ve never heard so much as a whisper about it,” she said.
“Then our partner’s security protocols have worked,” Than said.
A hatch opened on the wall and a metal globe floated out over their heads. It turned to direct a built-in lens at them and its surface changed through a myriad of colors and reflections.
“One word of advice,” he added. “Remain calm.”
“That’s…different,” Xing said. “What happens if I don’t ‘remain calm’?”
“There was one incident. A face bitten off. Something of a diplomatic flap, but it was just the one case,” Than said, then clapped his hands together twice and bowed to the floating globe. “The Terran League Navy presents its choice for final command. May we have an audience with the War Mother.”
“Wait. What?”
Xing looked back and forth between the globe, Than, and the doors. Then there was a hiss, and musty air washed over them as those doors opened into a spherical room. A large holo screen on the bulkhead showed endless shipyards, teeming with activity as robotic construction units swarmed around scores of warships. Dozens of completed ships floated in parking orbits with them, stretching around a barren planet with a red dwarf in the distance. A gray-scaled, saurian alien, with enormous shoulders covered by a spiked, articulated carapace, fully erect scarlet cranial frills, and a short, clubbed tail stood at a control panel on a raised dais at the chamber’s center. It was at least three meters in height, naked but for the diaphanous streamers falling from its carapace to hang about it in a shimmer of vivid, eye-battering colors. It had the powerful, fanged jaws of a carnivore but startlingly beautiful golden eyes looked out of that hideous, scaled face.
Smaller saurians, no more than half its height and without carapaces, clustered around it.
“High War Mother Naytash,” Than said with another bow. The hovering globe translated his words into a high-pitched, squeaky snarl. “I greet you. May your clan increase.”
“And may you birth many daughters.” The globe translated the Rish’s words as it had Than’s. “Although you and your mate are past such times, are you not?”
“We have many children. Raising more is out of the question.” Than touched fingertips to his face, just below his eyes, then spread his arms to the side.
“War Mother Naytash, I present Second Fleet Mother Xing,” he said.
“Come.” The Rish extended a hand toward the humans, then curled its four fingers one digit at a time, clicking its claws together. “Come and show me this new one, Than. I have heard so much.”
Even the redoubtable Xing stood motionless for a moment, and Than put a hand into the small of her back and gave her a gentle push forward.
“Security has held, War Mother,” he said. “Fleet Mother Xing as yet knows…very little about Project Astra.”
“The new fleet mother can speak, can she not?” Naytash’s lips curled, revealing serrated teeth, and she snapped her jaws with a loud click.
“Interrogative gesture, non-hostile,” Than said to Xing.
The second admiral glanced at him, then her nostrils flared and she turned back to the Rish.
“What place is this?” she demanded.
“It is my ship, an extension of my clan hearth,” Naytash replied. “It’s name…you would call it ‘Dagger,’ I believe. It is close enough.” She tossed her head in what might have been a shrug. “It is a weapon in my clan’s hand, ready to aid those we call friend.”
Xing looked at her for a moment, then turned and pointed to the holo.
“How many ships are there? Those are Fúxī-class carriers. How many? Battleships? Cruisers? Crews? How is all this possible?”
“Good…good!” Naytash turned to the control panel and her clawed fingers tapped across a circle of unlabeled buttons. “The answer is that there are fifty-three of your Fúxī FTLCs, each designed to lift six of your Huang Di battleships and six Hou Yi battlecruisers or Haneul-nim strikecarriers. At present, a fifth part of the FTLCs are operational, or nearly so, although only eight of them have completed trials. We await a last shipment to bring the other FTLCs’ drives online and sharpen the rest of your sword, War Mother. Ninety percent of the parasites have been completed through the engineering stage and passed propulsion trials, but very few of them are yet armed and even fewer are adequately crewed as yet.”
Xing’s eyes narrowed as a text holo came up, detailing the entire fleet under construction.
“This is impossible,” she said. “How did this stay hidden for so long?”
“Because the Rishathan Sphere has an interest,” Naytash said. “We supplied the critical components, most built to your specifications, although we also improved some systems where your designs were flawed.” The clubbed tail flicked in what clearly was the Rishathan equivalent of a human shrug. “The League but built the shipyards and provided the technicians to build the hulls and assemble those components.”
“Why? The costs…This represents several years of the League’s entire naval budget,” Xing said.
“The Federation…is greedy,” Naytash replied. “Truth requires truth, Fleet Mother, and we do not do this out of mere generosity. Both the Federation and the League have encroached upon the greater Sphere of the Rish, but as you know, the Federation is closer to us than you are. They are the greater, more immediate threat to our territory, and the Sphere must remain whole. The greater Sphere which shields it must likewise remain whole. The League guarantees our integrity. We do not trust the same promise from the Federation.”
“The Rish have provided us with key drive systems and components for years,” Than said. “Along with intelligence. Their assistance has turned the tide in several battles. We owe the Sphere much.”
“And now they’ve built us a fleet.” Xing put her hands on her hips. “Are the crews…Rishathan?”
Naytash sucked air through her teeth.
“Laughter,” Than murmured in Xing’s ear.
“Our influence must remain hidden,” Naytash told her. “Some of your crews are already on board, readying for…shakedown?” Naytash looked past Xing to Than, who nodded, then looked back at Xing. “As I have said, only a small percentage of all these ships are operational, but I have been told that the additional war daughters required to crew all of them will be made available shortly.”
“That is correct, War Mother,” Than said. “We’re reactivating retirees and others from outlying planets who have completed their service terms.”
“My spacers are old crocks and dischargers?” Xing frowned.
“Experience is invaluable.” Frustration edged Than’s voice. “They’ll be able to grasp Project Astra’s purpose, even if they don’t have a target right in front of them. And a lot of them have been drawn from planets the Federation’s raided. There may be some initial unhappiness at being recalled, but once they realize they’re the ones who’re finally going to win this war, they’ll be ready.”
“Win the war?” Xing’s eyes glowed. “Damned right it will! When I bring this—” she waved at the endless display of ship icons “—out of wormhole space on the Beta Cygni front, the Feds will shit their vac suits!”
“It’s not going to Beta Cygni,” Than said, and she scowled.
“What the hell are you talking about?” she demanded.
“We realized some years ago that we’ve been fighting this war all wrong,” Than said.
In fact, although he wasn’t about to tell Xing that, he was the one who’d first pointed that out to the Admiralty. Which was why he’d been chosen—initially, at least—to command Dragon Fleet when the time came.
“When the war first began,” he continued, “fighting for frontier systems made strategic sense. Our carriers were slower in wormhole space than they are now, and there were enough…reliability issues with military-grade Fasset drives to limit practical operational radii to about fifty or sixty light-years. So both we and the Feds built up a glacis of frontier systems and nodal bases to support that sort of operational ‘bubble.’ But the technology’s changed—improved—over the last twenty or thirty years, and it’s time we took cognizance of that. We have the capability now to launch ‘deep strikes,’ hundreds of light-years behind the front. We don’t know whether or not the Feds have figured that out, but we have. The problem’s been that we haven’t been able to withdraw the forces for it from where they’re already tied down. If we pull out units to concentrate for an attack like that, the Feds will probably notice. Not only that, if our forces aren’t in a position to keep theirs tied down, there’s no reason they can’t respond with ‘deep strikes’ of their own. But now—”
“But now we have an entire fleet they don’t even know exists!” Xing interrupted.
“Exactly.” Than nodded. “The Admiralty’s unwilling to commit entirely to a completely new strategic paradigm, however.”
Which, now that he thought about it, might be one reason the Admiralty had been willing to go along with Liu’s decision to put Xing into the command which should have been his. The First Admiral was one of the senior officers who’d been most worried by his own “possibly excessive enthusiasm” for the new concept.
“What does that mean?” Xing asked.
“They’re not ready to commit to a strike directly into the Heart,” Than explained. “They’re too worried about task forces from the Feds’ nodal bases getting into the rear of our own attack force.” He shrugged ever so slightly. “Based on earlier war experience, it’s not an entirely unreasonable position.” Not entirely…just mostly. “So they’re prepared to sanction a strike deep into the Federation, but they want a corridor of cleared bases in its rear. Which is why Dragon Fleet’s been built here.”
“Here?” Xing pounced. “Here where? Where are we?”
Naytash tapped another panel and a schematic of the local star system appeared. Its primary was a dim M5v, barely out of the brown dwarf category. It had a single asteroid belt, and none of its planets were remotely habitable, although icons showed both the shipyards and extensive mining habitats in orbit around its second planet, labeled Songdi. Although Songdi was barely two light-minutes from the star, it was considerably colder than the Sol System’s Mars.
“We chose Diyu because no one could have any possible reason to come anywhere near it,” Than said. “Unless—”
He paused as Naytash touched a button and a map of the local galaxy appeared beside and beneath the system schematic.
“Oh, my!” Xing’s eyes lit up. “We’re nowhere near Beta Cygni. That’s the Concordia Sector.” She pointed. “New Dublin, Jalal, Mannerheim…it’s the Acera Corridor straight into the Heart Worlds!”
“And that’s exactly why the First Admiral has kept the Beta Cygni front so active,” Than said in a grimmer tone. “The Dragon Fleet equals a third of the fleet strength we have deployed around Beta Cygni—more like half, given the power of its individual units—and the fighting there has sucked in the Federation’s strength, as well. They don’t have anything that could possibly stop you short of the Heart Worlds themselves, and they can’t even try to redeploy from Beta Cygni when you attack without opening a gaping hole in the front there.” He looked Xing squarely in the eye. “We’ve lost a lot of lives to create this opportunity.”
“And what will you do with this gift, Fleet Mother Xing?” Naytash asked. “If I agree to give you command. What would a war mother like you do?”
“I have no sea to march to,” Xing replied. “With a fleet this size, I would tear a wound through the Federation and let the Heart Worlds bleed to death. I killed Inverness—dealt a mortal blow to the Feds there and left them to die. With this Dragon Fleet…With Dragon, I could reach Old Earth itself. I wouldn’t even need to fire a shot when I got there. The trail of dead behind me would deliver an ultimatum even the fat sows in the Five Hundred will understand.”
“We don’t need to inflict that many civilian casualties,” Than said. “Destruction of all their key bases would—”
“This is why the First Admiral gave me the command,” Xing snapped. “Because I have the strength to do what must be done. For decades we’ve been content to bleed against the Federation while their Heart Worlds feel no pain. Enough! I’ll teach them what this war’s really like!”
“She is accepted,” Naytash said. “Rishathan males are meek and have limited uses. I am glad that a human female can live up to our expectations.”
“Excellent.” Xing rubbed her palms together. “When will the fleet be ready?”
“As I have said, we await a final shipment before we can complete the FTLCs’ Fasset drives. Once it arrives, we will require perhaps two of your months for installation and engineering trials. Once that is accomplished, it depends on crews.”
“The next round of call-ups is underway,” Than said. “Reinforcements for Beta Cygni—that’s the official version.”
“Which is my flagship?” Xing asked. “I want fleet exercises with the ready ships starting tomorrow morning. Your carriers will be our Fed stand-ins.”
“Ma’am…” Than hesitated. “The operational FTLCs have almost full complements, but that’s because the Admiralty’s given them priority. Most of the parasites are only partially crewed. I doubt more than a handful of them have sufficient personnel onboard for exercises.”
“Unacceptable,” Xing said flatly, and Naytash sucked in air with another of those hissing laughs and touched yet another button. A manning graph replaced the display of ship names and types, and Xing frowned as she studied it for a handful of seconds.
“We have enough personnel to fully man the parasites for at least six of the carriers,” she said. “It’s just a matter of distributing them properly.”
“The First Admiral wants skeleton cadres aboard as many ships as possible,” Than said tonelessly. “His intention is to slot reactivated personnel into existing crew matrices.”
“Then, presumably, the personnel already assigned are of exceptional quality,” Xing retorted. “It won’t hurt them a bit to spend some time polishing their skills while we await the next personnel draft. They can always return to their original ships as additional personnel become available.”
“The First Admiral—”
“Isn’t here,” Xing interrupted. “And he didn’t select me to not make my own decisions. See to it.”
“Ma’am—”
“See. To. It.” She glared at him for a moment, then snorted as he locked his jaw on further remonstrance. She looked back at Naytash.
“Now, which is the flagship?”
“The Nüwa,” the Rish replied. She gazed at Xing for a moment, then clicked her claws. “Than…let me speak with the Fleet Mother.”
“Of course.”
Than bowed slightly and went to the doors. The smaller Rishathan males hissed at him as he left.