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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

“I still don’t see how Xing managed to lose so many ships,” Captain Sunwar Kang’s hologram said.

At least he’d managed to not say “how even Xing managed,” Admiral Than thought. Probably only because it was an official, recorded and logged communication. Speaking of which…

“Overconfidence and a Federation commander who was more competent than our ops plan gave him credit for,” Than replied.

He wasn’t certain that was…sufficiently oblique, but it was the best he could manage. And at least it sounds better than “blind stupidity and a flag officer who couldn’t pour piss out of a boot,” he reflected.

“This Murphy…thinks outside the box,” he continued. “We still haven’t determined how he got such missile range, or exactly what he did to the Second Admiral, but whatever he used, it wasn’t a standard Fed weapon system. Nobody ever saw anything like it, so nobody took precautions against it.”

And that, he thought, was nothing but the truth.

The battered remnants of Dragon Gamma had reached Diyu four weeks earlier. He’d run both of his surviving FTLCs on the ragged edge of Fasset failure to get them there that quickly, but he’d had no choice. Not after he realized that Xing—as if determined to compound her idiocy—had run directly for Diyu. She might as well have given Murphy a roadmap.

Calm down, he told himself. It’s only a general roadmap. Murphy can’t have gotten a good enough vector analysis to nail down Diyu as her destination. All it can do is give him a general volume. But still

He’d been a little surprised that Xing hadn’t beaten him home, but only a little. It was obvious from how long she’d required to wormhole out that her Fasset drives had taken significant damage, and that sort of damage had unfortunate implications for sustainable FTL velocity, because the mass of its Fasset drive’s black hole—or, rather, the ratio between its black hole’s mass and the rest mass of the ship—dictated the maximum velocity it could attain and hold. Than’s own ships had maintained just over nine hundred lights, but only at a very real risk of failure even on drives which had sustained little or—in Cai Shen’s case—no damage.

“Do you really expect him to attack here?” Sunwar asked anxiously, and Than suppressed a sigh.

He’d been able to save Sunwar’s face, at least a little, by promoting him to the status of yard commander in Diyu when Xing ordered him relieved from squadron command. It was a task well suited to his experience at the Office of Shipbuilding and Office of Munitions, and he’d done well at it. But as much as Than had disagreed with Xing on an entire host of issues, the fact that Sunwar no longer belonged on a command deck in battle wasn’t one of them.

As his ability to ask that question amply demonstrated.

The third admiral reminded himself that it wasn’t really Sunwar’s fault, not that it made the query any less irritating.

Oh, be fair, Qiang! If Murphy’s half as smart as you think he is, it wouldn’t matter if Sunwar was a tactical genius! We are so screwed, thanks to that idiot bitch.

“If he was able to project the Second Admiral’s retreat vector with sufficient accuracy, I’m pretty sure he will,” he said out loud. “It’s what I’d do in his position,” he added grimly.

“But he can’t know what we have to defend the system,” Sunwar pointed out, and Than nodded.

“That’s true, and frankly, I hope that’s what he’s thinking, too. If he knows how many manifolds were aboard the freighter he intercepted, then he must have a pretty fair idea of the size of Dragon Fleet’s intended carrier component. But he can’t have any confirmation—” unless some of our people told him after he rescued them “—of how far along the carriers’ sublight groups were. So it’s possible he’d anticipate a much stronger defense than we could actually put up and stay home rather than risk it. But I don’t think this man thinks that way.” Than shook his head. “I think he’ll count on the fact that without FTLCs of our own, all our parasites could do would be to defend the volume immediately around the yard facilities. He’ll pop in with his own carriers and take a good look around. And—” the third admiral showed his teeth in a humorless grin “—when he sends in his recon drones and figures out we can’t stop him, he’ll return the favor for what we did to New Dublin’s yards.”

Sunwar nodded, his expression desperately unhappy, and Than didn’t blame him. There were over seventy thousand men and women distributed through the building yards, outfitting docks, orbital smelters, and fabrication platforms. And, unlike the New Dublin System, there were no habitable planets in Diyu. No place to which Sunwar could evacuate those men and women.

“We can always hope I’m wrong,” Than said, “but—”

“Excuse me, Third Admiral.”

Than turned away from the comm as Su Zhihao knocked on the frame of his shipboard office’s open door. The chief of staff’s expression was almost as unhappy as Sunwar’s.

“Yes, Zhihao?”

“Base Ops reports that the long-range arrays have just picked up a Fasset signature,” Su replied. No ship, not even an FTLC, was big enough to mount long-range Fasset arrays. “It’s coming in on a direct vector from New Dublin, but I don’t think it’s Murphy.”

“No?” Than felt a chill.

“No, Sir. It’s twenty-one light-weeks out, but it’s only pulling about two hundred lights. ETA is seventeen-point-six hours.”

“I see.”

Than nodded. At a velocity that low, it almost had to be Xing, limping home at last. And wasn’t it a hell of a note that he would almost rather it was Murphy.

“I’ll get back to you, Kang,” he said to Sunwar.

“Of course, Sir,” Sunwar replied.

His holo vanished—probably with a sense of vast relief on his part, Than thought; this was likely to be one of those conversations a prudent subordinate wanted no part of—and the third admiral tipped back his chair and pointed for Su to take the one facing his desk.

“What’s she going to do, Sir?” the chief of staff asked, launching into that conversation as he settled. “She’s sure as hell had time to work out her next move.”

“Good question.” Than rubbed his cheek. “Pretend you just lost the biggest battle in decades with minimal—possibly no—losses to the other side. What would you do?”

“Well…if there’s a firing squad waiting for me back at Anyang, wild space and piracy with my surviving ships would have to look very attractive. Assuming I had no sense of honor.” Su shrugged. “Which probably means she’s been thinking about exactly that…hard.”

“Firing squad?”

“It is election season, Sir, and our political leadership had a lot riding on Dragon Fleet’s success. What she’s brought them instead—?” Su shook his head. “The best way to prove you weren’t responsible for whatever’s gone wrong is to shoot somebody else and convince everyone that person was responsible for it.”

“You may have a point,” Than conceded. “And the best way to be the one who doesn’t get shot is to hang the responsibility on someone else. Some handy subordinate, say.”

“I know,” Su said. “That’s why I’m so worried over how long she’s had to think.”

* * *

“Sir?”

Su stood in Than’s office door once again, and the third admiral looked up from the paperwork with which he’d been pretending to be occupied. He took in Su’s expression, and glanced at the time display. Xing was still well over ten hours out, so that couldn’t explain what had put that…odd look on his chief of staff’s face.

“Yes?” he said.

“We’ve just picked up another inbound Fasset signature. This one’s at twenty-six light weeks, and it’s turning out just over nine hundred lights.”

Than stiffened and brought his work chair fully upright.

“Approach vector?” he asked rather more sharply.

“It’s coming in from Hefei.” Su’s voice was flat. “Looks like just one ship.”

Li Shiji.” Than’s voice was equally flat.

“I’d sort of hoped you were being unduly paranoid when you posted her there.” Su flashed a humorless smile.

“ETA?”

“A bit under six hours. About five hours before Xing. Assuming the first bogey is her, of course. Li Shiji has farther to go, but she’s traveling close to five times as fast.”

“And she wouldn’t be, unless the hounds of hell—or Murphy—were on her heels,” Than said grimly.

“I suppose we should look on the bright side,” Su said.

“I must be missing something. There’s a bright side to this?”

“Well, if we have to die in hopeless battle, at least Xing should get here in time to go with us.”

Than snorted, but his eyes also narrowed and he tipped back, rubbing his chin.

“You’re probably right about that,” he said, after a moment. “On the other hand, I’d prefer to put up at least some fight. And I can’t do that from the bottom of a stellar gravity well.”

“Sir?”

“Tell Captain Sun to take us out of orbit. Move us to Intercept Three.”

Su’s eyebrows rose. Of the four potential interception points Than had selected, Intercept Three was the one the chief of staff had least expected to use if the enemy turned up on a vector from Hefei. It was just beyond the Diyu Powell Limit, but it lay very, very close to the least-time approach vector for Hefei. He started to ask what Than was thinking, but the third admiral’s expression discouraged inquiries.

“Intercept Three,” he repeated. “Yes, Sir. We should be in position in about two hours.”

“Good. And I want orders waiting for Li Shiji to join us there as soon as she arrives.”

“I’ll see to the transmission.”

“Good,” Than said once more, then sighed unhappily. “And now I suppose I should have a word with Sunwar.”

“Don’t envy you, Sir,” Su said quietly, then nodded and withdrew.

Than swiped his desk display. A moment later, Sunwar Kang’s hologram appeared above his desk once again.

“Third Admiral,” Sunwar said. His expression was tight. Well, of course it was. It was his arrays which had picked up Li Shiji’s footprint.

“If Murphy is as hard on Captain Pan’s heels as I am afraid he is, he’s probably only about seven or eight hours behind him,” Than said flatly.

“You’re sure he’s following Li Shiji, Sir?”

Than successfully resisted a sudden urge to bite the man’s head off. Sunwar’s tone was almost desperate, and the third admiral understood exactly why he so badly wanted Than to be wrong. Unfortunately—

“Captain Pan’s orders were quite specific,” he said almost gently. “Only two things would have brought him back to Diyu. A recall order from me or Second Admiral Xing, or the arrival of a Fed force in Hefei, and I didn’t send any recalls.”

“Of course, Sir.” Sunwar braced himself visibly. “What are your orders?”

“I don’t have any to give you,” Than said. “Not really. Cai Shen and Li Shiji are the only FTL-capable ships in-system—or about to be in-system, in Li Shiji’s case. And we don’t begin to have the capacity to lift your people out. I wish to hell we did, but we don’t.”

“The Bǐshǒu’s still here—” Sunwar began.

“Forget it. Bǐshǒu won’t take our people.”

“The hell it won’t! I can have a security team aboard within an hour and—”

“Don’t,” Than snapped. Sunwar stared at him, eyes filled with protest, and the admiral shook his head. “Nobody goes aboard that ship without an invitation, no matter what. You know that.”

“But under the circumstances—”

“The circumstances don’t matter. And you’d never see any security team you sent aboard again. Trust me.”

Sunwar’s face turned into a mask.

“In that case, Sir, I repeat—what are your orders?”

Than inhaled deeply, held it, then let the air out of his lungs. Sunwar had a point, he conceded. The responsibility came with Than’s rank.

“Admiral Xing will be back in-system in less than eight hours. I’m about to adjust my own deployment in light of Li Shiji’s appearance. My orders—until and unless Admiral Xing countermands them—are to move as many of your personnel as possible, preferably all of them, from the construction and support platforms into any sublight unit that has the life support to accept them. And then, you are to move those ships at least a quarter million kilometers clear of the platforms.”

“They’ll be sitting ducks,” Sunwar protested. “None of them were fully operational to begin with, and then Second Admiral Xing stripped the cadres out of them for the attack on New Dublin!”

“I’m aware of that, Captain.” Than’s voice was icy. “But the construction facilities and the unfinished FTLCs will be the enemy’s primary targets. And, frankly, the only real defense we can offer our personnel is to put them aboard ships the Feds may not waste missiles on.” His mouth was a grim line as he met Sunwar’s anguished gaze squarely. “If there was anything else I could do, I’d do it, Captain. Trust me.”

Their locked eyes held for a moment, and then Sunwar’s shoulders slumped.

“I know,” he said. “I know that, Sir. It’s just—”

“Just that they’re your people and your responsibility. Well, they’re mine, too, Kang, and I wish to hell I could do better by them. But all either of us can do is the best we can.”

“Yes, Sir. Good luck.”

“And to you, Kang. Than, clear.”

“Ah, Sir,” Su said in a delicate tone, “about Bǐshǒu…Should we alert the envoy, as well?”

“The envoy is tied into Sunwar’s systems,” Than replied. “She already knows everything we do. I don’t know what she’s going to do about it, but that’s not our problem or our responsibility. Her superiors made that perfectly clear when they sent her here.”

“So we stay out of it?”

“So we stay out of it,” Than confirmed grimly.

* * *

“It’s Murphy, all right,” Captain Pan Hanying said.

The transmission instructing Li Shiji to join Cai Shen at Intercept Three had been waiting when his FTLC went sublight. Now she was decelerating hard toward Than’s flagship. The good news was that they’d make rendezvous in time for both of them to go to strict EMCON well before her pursuers came out of wormhole space. Unfortunately, that was all the good news there was.

“So you made positive ID?” Than’s tone made the question a statement, and Pan nodded.

“Seven FTLCs, and two of them matched the emission signatures of the Marduks Xing was chasing in New Dublin. It may not be Murphy in person, I suppose, but these are definitely his ships.”

“I wish I was surprised.” Than sighed.

“The only thing that surprises me, Sir, is that he actually guessed wrong and went to Hefei first instead of coming straight here. The man must have his own pet demon whispering in his ear!”

“I doubt it’s anything quite that arcane,” Than said dryly. “I’ll grant you that he seems a bit…aggressively competent, though.”

“What are we going to do, Sir?”

“I’m not sure.” Than shrugged slightly. “Admiral Xing should be here by the time he arrives.”

“Admiral Xing?” Pan’s voice was tighter than it had been. “She’s here? She got back to Diyu?”

“Not exactly. But the gods appear to have a sense of humor.” Than smiled tightly. “She will be back about…three and a half hours before Murphy arrives, according to your tracking data.” Not even the base’s arrays had detected Murphy yet, but given Li Shiji’s burst-transmitted data, that would be changing in the next forty minutes.

Or would have been, if Than hadn’t ordered Sunwar to shut them down.

“With all due respect, I’d rather not be the butt of any divine humor.”

“Ah, but that’s why they’re gods. We hapless mortals have no choice but to play our parts for them.”

Pan’s eyes narrowed. One thing Than Qiang had never been was fatalistic. Of course, he’d never faced a battle of annihilation against three times his own strength, either.

“As you say, Sir,” the captain said after a moment.

“For right now, just concentrate on making rendezvous. Then the two of us are going to go dark, dig a hole in space, and crawl into it.”

“Understood, Sir.”

* * *

Xing Xuefeng prowled Nüwa’s flag bridge as the big, battered carrier finally dropped sublight.

The normal eight-week voyage from New Dublin to Diyu had turned into a nineteen-week crawling nightmare, and much of that was her own fault. Nüwa and Pangu’s best sustained velocity had been only 400 c, and Captain Geng, Pangu’s CO, had urged her to reduce even that speed in light of their damaged Fasset drives. But she’d rejected his suggestion, because it was imperative that she return to Diyu at the earliest possible moment.

And, as Geng had very carefully not pointed out after the fact, the consequence had been a dozen more blown nodes. They’d been forced to reduce to this miserable crawl, and Xing had been like a saber tooth with a toothache ever since. The only good news was that the nineteen weeks the rest of the universe had passed during the voyage had been only a little over two and a half for her.

The longest two and a half weeks of her entire life.

But they were back at last, although their astrogation had been as bad as anything else. Their best normal space acceleration rate was down to only 850 gravities, even outside the Powell Limit. At that rate, it would take them almost ten hours to decelerate to rest relative to local space, and they’d emerged from wormhole space less than three light-hours from Diyu’s primary. Which meant that they were about to overshoot the star by fifteen light-minutes, then crawl seventeen light-minutes back to the yards.

Still, they’d made it, and her nostrils flared as Nüwa’s sensors began pulling in the transmissions of navigation buoys and ship transponders.

“Obviously the Feds didn’t know where Diyu is,” she observed to Commander Xie Kai, Rang Yong-Gi’s successor as her chief of staff. Xie’s darkly auburn hair hinted at gwáipò ancestry, but Xing had found her…adequate. So far at least.

“Given how long it took us to get back here,” she continued, “they’d certainly have attacked by now if they had a clue where to find us.”

“As you say, Second Admiral.” Xie bobbed her head.

“I don’t see Cai Shen’s transponder, though,” Xing continued, frowning at the plot. “In fact, I don’t see any of Than’s ships.”

“That’s odd,” Xie murmured. “We know at least two of them got out. Do you suppose their Fasset drives were even more badly damaged than ours?”

“Not judging by their observed acceleration rates before we lost track of them.” Xing frowned. Then her nostrils flared. “Than being Than, he’s probably hiding somewhere out there until he’s sure we aren’t the big bad Feds.”

Xie started to say something, then bit her lip and simply bobbed her head respectfully again.

Xing glared at her, hearing the words the commander hadn’t said. The same words all too many people were going to be saying if she didn’t get a handle on the situation quickly. For all she knew Than had already dispatched his own report on the battle, and that would be…bad.

“Tell communications I want an omnidirectional transmission to Cai Shen. We’ll find him wherever the hell he is.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

* * *

“My God,” O’Hanraghty muttered. “I expected something big, but this…”

The chief of staff’s voice trailed off as he and Murphy stared in disbelief at the master plot while detail after detail filled in. Ishtar had gone sublight a hundred and forty-five light-minutes from the M3v star labeled Yuxi on their charts, and whatever those charts may have said about “uninhabited star systems” had obviously been in error. The range was long, but the Federation’s optical systems were very good, and even if they hadn’t been, a solid blaze of power sources stretched around the inner system. The sheer size of the installations beggared the imagination. Venus Futures’ primary yard could have been tucked into one tiny corner of the mammoth building complex.

“How the hell did the League build something like this?” Commander Ortiz asked, shaking his head.

“I don’t know,” Lieutenant Commander Tanaka said, then glanced at O’Hanraghty. “Unless they had help,” she added slowly.

The chief of staff raised an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged irritably.

“I still think there’s no rational explanation for why the Rish should be helping the Leaguies, but Ed’s right. There’s no way the League should have been able to build something like this out of their own resources. Not as tightly strapped as all our reports indicate they are. So, yes. They had to have help, and it had to be the Rish, whatever their reasons are.” She looked squarely at Murphy. “You were right all along, Sir.”

She looked less than happy as she made the admission, but her expression was unflinching.

“Well, maybe we’ll have a better picture of what this is all about in the next few hours, Amari,” Murphy told her, and she nodded grimly.

“I’d like that,” O’Hanraghty said. “I’d like that a lot, Sir.”

* * *

“Than, where the hell are you?” Xing Xuefeng demanded from the comm display.

Than looked at Su and raised one eyebrow.

Xing had gone sublight much closer to Diyu than she’d probably wanted to, and Cai Shen was ten light-minutes from the star. There were still just over a hundred light-minutes between them, however. That equated to an hour and a half communication lag—one-way—in any conversation.

Apparently it eventually occurred to her that waiting the next best thing to three hours between transmissions didn’t make a great deal of sense, as well.

Nüwa’s taken severe damage,” she continued five minutes later. “Bring up your drive wherever you are and rendezvous with me ASAP. I’m transferring my flag to Cai Shen, effective immediately. I have to take word back to Anyang as quickly as possible. That’s our new mission priority. I’ll leave you in command of Project Astra to supervise construction and repairs and as chief liaison officer until my return.”

Su scowled.

“That…bitch,” he said through gritted teeth. “She’s going to leave you behind and run back to Anyang with her own version of what happened at New Dublin.”

“Beat the bad news back and control the narrative.” Than nodded. “It’s been done before. Although I’m curious about how she thinks anyone can sugarcoat the loss of so many lives and ships.”

“She won’t even try,” Su said bitterly. “Why should she, when she can blame it all on you? And use your own flagship to do it! No. This crew—our people—they won’t let her throw you to the wolves!”

“I’m not particularly concerned,” Than said serenely.

“You’re—” Su began hotly, then stopped as a raucous buzzer snarled suddenly. The chief of staff looked at the plot, then back at Than.

“You sneaky son of a bitch,” he said very, very softly.

“Sorry, XO—what was that?” Than said.

“Nothing.” Su gave his commander a sidelong look. “Nothing, Sir. Nothing at all.”

“Good, because what I thought I heard you say would have been grossly improper. I’m glad to discover I was mistaken.”

“As you say, Sir.”

“Well,” Than interlaced his fingers and cracked his knuckles. “I suppose I should reply to her.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Second Admiral,” he said into the pickup, his expression somber, “I regret to inform you that it won’t be possible for me to comply with your instructions. The base arrays detected several incoming Fasset drives several hours ago. They have just dropped sublight approximately one hundred and forty-five light-minutes from the primary. Based on reports from the Li Shiji, I believe this to be at least seven Fed FTLCs. Their entry vector is within forty-five degrees of your own, which, unfortunately, makes it impossible for Cai Shen to rendezvous with Nüwa from my present position without being intercepted. Standing orders in a situation such as this are clear. Accordingly, in order to preserve the strategic asset of my vessels for future service to the League, I must, regretfully, immediately depart the system. As you said, it is essential that we report back to Anyang. That is now our mission priority, and I assure you that we’ll get the job done for you. Than, clear.”

He managed—somehow—not to smile until he’d finished recording the message.

That’s why we’re at the Intercept Three, isn’t it?” Su said almost accusingly. “Because the math makes it impossible to match velocities with Nüwa on her entry vector!”

“What a nasty motive to impute to a purely tactical decision,” Than replied. Then he tapped his comm display and Captain Sun appeared on it.

“Yes, Third Admiral?”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do here, Captain. Execute Withdrawal Alpha.”

“Yes, Sir,” the flag captain replied, and Than sat back as Cai Shen and Li Shiji began to accelerate away from Diyu on what was almost—almost—a reciprocal of Murphy’s heading.

He could no more “see” Murphy yet than Murphy could see him, but unlike the Federation admiral, he had the advantage of knowing where his opponent had to be. His current course would actually close to within no more than a couple of light-minutes of Murphy’s carriers, but by the time Murphy saw him, his base velocity would be well over 75,000 KPS. Moreover, their closing velocity would still be close to 297,000 KPS, because Than’s acceleration would come within a few percentage points of matching Murphy’s deceleration on their respective headings. Cai Shen and Li Shiji would blow past the TFN force just outside their weapons envelope, and it would be impossible for Murphy to decelerate and place himself on a pursuit vector before Than wormholed out for Anyang.

“What about the people on the yard platforms, Sir?” Su asked quietly.

“There’s no way I can save them,” Than replied with genuine regret. “Unless…”

He looked at the plot, studying the projected vectors, then nodded. His and Murphy’s ships truly were going to pass one another at what constituted a very short range on the scale of a star system. And while they would be unable to shoot at one another…

* * *

“Well, those two bastards are going to get away,” O’Hanraghty growled, glaring at the two Fasset drives which had just appeared on Ishtar’s sensors. At the moment, those sensors were actually looking into the past as she continued to decelerate at 1,800 gravities. After just over an hour, her velocity was down to 220,740 KPS. But the light-speed emissions of the RLH carriers coming at them were also over an hour old. The computers projected their current positions as barely sixty-nine light-minutes ahead of Murphy’s force.

“They knew we were coming, Sir,” Mirwani said. “Their picket got back in time to tell them even before they picked us up on their system arrays.”

“And they decided to show us a bit of chutzpah,” Murphy acknowledged. He shook his head in unwilling admiration. “They got themselves into position with time enough to shut down and go to EMCON at least two hours before we turned up. By the time we went sublight, there was nothing to see…until they lit their fans off again.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t just run the other way, Sir.”

“No reason to.” O’Hanraghty shrugged. “We’ll hit closest approach in—what? Another seventy minutes? They’ll still be at least a couple of light-minutes clear when they break past us, and we’ll be headed exactly the wrong direction to decelerate and go after them. So why not give us the finger as they go by?”

* * *

“Excuse me, Admiral,” Lieutenant Mastroianni said.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“Sir, I just receipted a transmission from an Admiral Than. A message to you.”

“Ah?” Murphy cocked an eyebrow at O’Hanraghty. Thirty minutes had passed since they’d first detected the League FTLCs. Their own velocity was down to 194,265 KPS, but the League ships had increased their velocity to over 102,000 KPS and the rate of closure remained unchanged. The actual range was down to little more than a light-hour, though.

“Put it on my display,” Murphy said,

“Yes, Sir,” she replied, and a dark-complexioned, tallish man appeared on the display.

“Admiral Murphy,” he said, “I am Third Admiral Than. I’m sure it’s as obvious to you as it is to me that you can’t intercept me before I withdraw from the system, but I have a proposition for you. Something I think you want badly, but an offer that would require me to trust your word.”

“Cheeky bastard, isn’t he?” O’Hanraghty said wryly. “Confident, too.”

“With reason, I’m afraid,” Murphy agreed, and looked back at Mastroianni.

“All right, Lieutenant. Stand by to record a response.”

“Ready now, Sir.”

“Thank you.” Murphy faced the pickup. “What kind of proposition, Admiral Than?” he asked, then sat back to wait.

The transmission range was almost seventy light-minutes, but that range was shrinking by just under a light-second each second. By the time the transmission reached Than, forty-eight minutes later, his ships had traveled another twenty light-minutes…and Murphy’s had traveled thirty-two.

“There are seventy thousand-plus men and women aboard the yard facilities in the star system,” Than replied sixty minutes after Murphy had sent his reply. “They’re defenseless. Several of the sublight warships are capable of movement, and a handful are actually armed, but their magazines are empty and the FTLCs can’t even maneuver. I want your word that if they surrender, you’ll let them live.”

“I can’t take that many prisoners,” Murphy replied. “This isn’t New Dublin, and I don’t have the capacity to lift them out of here.”

“I realize that,” Than said after another 3.3 minute delay, just as their opposing forces reached their closest point of approach at two light-minutes’ separation. “But as I say, the ships can’t go anywhere. At the moment they aren’t even crewed, and even if they were, they’re stuck here, in the system, without carriers. Give me your word you’ll let them live—evacuate to those ships, wait for rescue—when you destroy the yard facilities, and I’ll give you something in return.”

Murphy’s jaw tightened. He said nothing for long seconds as the two forces passed one another. The range began to open once more as Than sped off toward safety, and then Murphy squared his shoulders and tapped a command into his console. His comm image split, sharing the screen with a scrolling data file. It was a very long file…one that contained the name and serial number of every League POW left behind in New Dublin.

“I’m no monster, Than,” he said, while that list flashed upward beside him. “And I know about your targeting decision in New Dublin. You couldn’t have missed Crann Bethadh so completely by accident. You have my word…and my thanks.”

“One of those two FTLCs in front of you is the Nüwa,” Than said three minutes later. “It’s the flagship of an officer I think you’re probably looking for, and as of a couple of hours ago, she was still quite alive. Knowing her, I rather suspect the records will say something different from that if you permit Nüwa to surrender. I’d really like the other officers and spacers aboard her to have the opportunity to live, though, so please don’t lump them together with that one and just blow Nüwa out of space.”

“We have a deal,” Murphy said. “Assuming Nüwa’s willing to surrender. However, my sensors are picking up at least one other ship in-system that appears to have an operable Fasset drive. A merchant hull.”

“I’m…afraid I have no authority over that ship,” Than replied with a strange expression. The two-way transmission lag was back up to four minutes. “It may well attempt to leave the system, but I assure you that no League personnel will try to escape aboard it if it does.”

Murphy hid a frown as he tried to parse those two sentences. There was something…odd about them. Then he shrugged.

“If it tries to escape, then it’s not covered by our agreement,” he said.

“Of course not,” Than agreed six minutes later. Then he grimaced. “I don’t care for you, Murphy. Federation officers with a hint of competence are a problem for the League.”

“I won’t take it personally,” Murphy said. “I assume you’re bound for Anyang. Maybe this can be the last great battle of the war.”

“You have enough pull in the Federation to start peace talks?”

The comm delay was back up to seven minutes and climbing as Than’s acceleration started building velocity differential rather than reducing it.

“No. Not yet, at least. But I can try for it. Maybe you can, too.”

“I can’t promise anything. Don’t assume I’ll keep my rank or my influence once word gets back to the capital. Does the Federation have a habit of shooting the messenger, too?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll find out shortly,” Murphy replied.

“Good luck, then,” Than replied nine and a half minutes later. “And may we never cross paths again. I doubt our next meeting will be this courteous. Than, clear.”

* * *

Than gave Murphy a nod and cut the channel.

“Erase all record of that conversation, Zhihao.”

“What conversation?” his chief of staff asked as the holo table blinked on and then off from a sudden power surge.

Than smiled, then puffed out his cheeks.

“Three hours to supralight. Maybe we’ll have enough time to see if Murphy keeps his word, or if he’s just another butcher.”


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Framed