CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Tara City
Planet Crann Bethadh
New Dublin System
Free Worlds Alliance
January 18, 2553
“What do you think this is all about, Sir?” Commander Ye asked quietly as the air car descended toward Halla Tionóil, the New Dublin System’s capitol building.
Since Concordia’s declaration of secession, it had become the home of the Free Worlds Alliance’s governing Council, as well as the New Dublin legislative branch, which, Fourth Admiral Xie Peng thought, added a certain point to Ye’s question. Almost exactly one standard year had passed since Xie had surrendered his sublight parasites to Terrence Murphy in direct defiance of Second Admiral Xing’s orders. His presence had been “requested” in Tara City a handful of times during that year, but his destination had always been the Ceannasaíocht, the New Dublin System Defense Force’s HQ building, not Halla Tionóil.
And he’d always known why he was visiting the Ceannasaíocht ahead of time. Usually, it had been to discuss the administration of the POW camps in which his people were housed, but this time, no one had told him a thing about the reason for the trip.
“I assume we’ll find out before much longer, ZhenKang,” he said calmly.
Ye looked at him just a bit skeptically, and Xie hid a smile.
Physically, he and his chief of staff might have been designed as a study in contrasts. Ye was a couple of centimeters taller than he was, but Xie was a stocky, burly sort with bristly black hair. Heoutmassed Ye by a good ten kilos, and he knew he always looked a bit…unfinished, however immaculate his uniform might be. Ye, on the other hand, was built on the slender, greyhound model, with sleek seal-brown hair and a pencil mustache, and he’d always been something of a clothes horse. Despite that, though, they understood one another well and they’d been an effective command team until that unfortunate afternoon here in New Dublin. Which meant Commander Ye was perfectly aware that Xie was somewhat less blasé about the unexpected summons than he chose to appear.
On the other hand, for all his own curiosity, Xie truly was almost as calm as he sounded.
Terrence Murphy had promised his people honorable treatment if he surrendered them, not that Xie had believed him for a moment. Things like that didn’t happen between the Tè Lā Lián Méng and the Federation after sixty years of bitter, bloody war. Given that Xie’s only other option would have been to carry out Xing’s lunatic orders and engage Murphy’s carriers, however, he hadn’t had much choice. His sublight parasites could almost certainly have destroyed the pair of Federation FTLCs immediately in front of them, but without carriers of their own, they would have been doomed to continue onward into interstellar space until their reactors ran out of fuel mass and every single one of Xie’s people died.
Even the brutality they could expect in a gwáilóu prison camp was better than that. And the fact that Xing had clearly written all of them off as disposable assets she expected to expend themselves in obedience to her orders while she got her own precious ass safely out of harm’s way had made the choice even easier. Xie Peng had been damned if he’d do anything to cover up that bitch’s monumental clusterfuck.
But it hadn’t worked out he way he’d expected. Instead, it turned out, preposterous though it clearly was, that Murphy had meant it. He and the Crann Bethadhans had recovered not just all of Xie’s people but every survivor from the crippled ships Admiral Than had been forced to leave behind, as well. They’d transported their wounded prisoners to the best hospitals they had and the unwounded ones to the McDermott Archipelago, a group of fairly large, sparsely inhabited islands thirty degrees or so above Crann Bethadh’s equator. The local inhabitants—of whom there’d been no more than a couple of thousand—had been moved out, and the POWs had been moved in.
At first, there’d been only tents, and precious few of them to go around, which had appeared to justify Xie’s doubts about Murphy’s promises. On the other hand, he’d told himself, no one in New Dublin could reasonably have anticipated the sudden arrival of sixty-four thousand prisoners of war. Under the circumstances, a certain shortage of housing had probably been inevitable, and at least it had been summer in the McDermotts.
Indeed, it had been, and if roofs had been in short supply, his people had been well fed and the Crann Bethadhans had treated his wounded as well as their own. More than that, prefab housing units had arrived as quickly as the planetary infrastructure could print them out. Within two months, Crann Bethadhan construction crews had put in a power net, along with enough roadways, foundations, sewerage, and water lines for a small city, and their captors had provided Xie’s people with the tools they needed to assemble their own housing.
There’d been no brutality, no unnecessary hardship at all, and General Dewar—before he’d become President Dewar—had treated Xie with a degree of courtesy he was unaccustomed to receiving from far too many of his own superiors. Murphy’s orders undoubtedly accounted for much of that, but not all of it, and Xie had wondered more than once what that said about the Federation’s citizens—out here in the Fringe, at least. It certainly didn’t jibe with the Tè Lā Lián Méng propagandists’ official line.
He was thinking about that as the air car grounded on the Halla Tionóil parking apron and the squad of SDF troopers awaiting it formed into an honor guard. At least that was what everyone was polite enough to pretend it was, Xie thought with a hidden smile.
He preceded Ye out of the hatch, and the SDF lieutenant commanding the “honor guard” saluted sharply. Xie returned the courtesy gravely, and the lieutenant turned and gestured at a walkway leading to the Halla Tionóil’s graceful portico.
“If you’d come with me, please, Fourth Admiral?”
“Of course, Lieutenant,” Xie replied, exactly as if he’d had a choice. “Please, lead the way.”
* * *
It was a fifteen-minute walk from the parking apron, into the building, and then up to the wooden-paneled, comfortably furnished conference room on its third floor. The lieutenant opened the door for his League “guests.”
“Fourth Admiral Xie and Commander Ye, Mr. President,” he announced, and stepped aside for Xie and his chief of staff.
Xie stepped into the room, then paused. He’d expected only Dewar and possibly one or two aides, in line with his previous visits to the system capital. There were rather more people than that present, however, and none of them looked like aides or secretaries.
“Fourth Admiral,” Cormag Dewar said, standing at the head of the conference table to hold out his hand.
Xie crossed to him and shook the proffered hand, and Dewar nodded to Ye, then waved both of them into waiting chairs.
Xie took inventory as he sat.
He recognized Vice President McFarland, and he’d met Yukimori Aiko twice, although he still had no idea what she looked like behind that formal ceramic mask. The auburn-haired woman at Yukimori’s elbow was General Chloe O’Kieran, who’d replaced Dewar as the New Dublin SDF’s CO, but he didn’t know the tallish, brown-haired man on the far side of the table from her or the shorter bald fellow beside him.
He did, however, recognize Captain Jordan Penski. Penski had commanded the sublight parasites that had defended the New Dublin orbital infrastructure against Admiral Than’s missile strike. And he’d also commanded the SAR teams who’d worked around the clock until they were positive they’d recovered every living survivor from Than’s cripples. He’d taken personal responsibility for getting all of those people safely dirtside, and his medical teams had fought for every League life as tenaciously as for any of their own.
Xie extended his hand across the table.
“Captain—no, I see it’s Commodore Penski now,” he said with a slight smile, noting the other man’s new rank insignia. “It’s good to see you again.”
“And to see you, too, Sir,” Penski replied as they shook hands. “I trust everything’s gone smoothly out there in the islands?”
“For castaways thrown ashore on barren, desert isles it hasn’t been too bad, I suppose,” Xie said with an absolutely straight face, and Penski chuckled. One thing no one would ever call the heavily forested, well-watered McDermotts was a barren desert. “In fact,” Xie continued, this time with a slight smile, “Colonel Keefe delivered the first surfboards about a month after you and Admiral Murphy departed. For which my people were suitably grateful.”
“Admiral Murphy promised you’d be treated well,” Dewar said, and shrugged. “We tend to take the Admiral at his word around here.”
“I will undoubtedly deny this if it’s ever reported to my superiors,” Xie replied, “but so do I.”
“I’m glad,” Dewar said simply. But then he tipped back in his own chair and cocked his head. “In fact, I’m glad for several reasons. But, first, let me introduce you to the two people I’m sure you’ve never met. This—” he gestured to the taller of the men Xie hadn’t already recognized “—is Dylan O’Kirwan, the New Dublin Secretary of Industry. And this—” he indicated the shorter man with the depilated scalp “—is Myles MacRannall, Dylan’s Director of Construction.”
Xie nodded courteously to each of them in turn, then cocked his head at Dewar.
“I must confess, Mr. President, that while I appreciate any opportunity to leave my barren, desert-island prison camp, however pleasant it may actually be, I’m somewhat at a loss for the reasons for this particular trip.”
“I’ve no doubt of that,” Dewar said, “but there’s a reason—and a good one—I assure you. The same reason Dylan and Myles are present. Admiral Murphy’s sent Commodore Penski as his personal representative to this meeting, but before he tells you what it’s all about, I want you to know two things. First, the Free Worlds Alliance would very, very much like you to accept Admiral Murphy’s offer. But, second, if you decide that you can’t, there’ll be no negative repercussions here in New Dublin. I can honestly say there wouldn’t have been, anyway, but Admiral Murphy made that a specific condition in the dispatches he sent home with the Commodore.”
Xie’s eyes narrowed for a moment. Then they moved back to Penski, and the dark-haired commodore looked back at him levelly.
“Precisely what sort of ‘offer’ does Admiral Murphy wish to make to me?” Xie asked slowly.
“Before I get to that, let me preface it by pointing out a few things, if I may,” Penski replied, and Xie nodded.
“First, the Admiral asked me to point out to you that there’s been ample time for your own naval authorities to send transports to collect the personnel waiting for them in Diyu. They haven’t. If they had, Commodore Granger would have destroyed the yard facilities and withdrawn her carriers from the system as soon as she was certain they’d be safely recovered by your navy.”
He looked into Xie’s eyes.
“They aren’t coming, Fourth Admiral,” he said quietly, almost compassionately. “If they were, they’d have done it by now.”
Xie’s nostrils flared, but he said nothing, only gestured for Penski to continue.
“There could be several reasons for that,” the gwáilóu commodore continued, “but you and I both know the most likely one is that Eternal Forward’s chosen to write off all of those men and women. To abandon them. And they’ve almost certainly done it out of political calculation. Their return to the League—and yours—would be a political disaster for Liu and his…associates, so they prefer to let you rot as Federation prisoners. Or worse.”
“If you wish me to acknowledge that my star nation’s political leaders are almost as capable of corrupt decisions as those of the Federation, I’m prepared to do so,” Xie said after a long, still moment. “The question that occurs to me is why you might wish me to make that acknowledgment. And I should point out to you in return that, as with your own military, the officers of the Rénzú Liánméng Hǎijūn take their oaths much more seriously than our political leadership deserves.”
“Believe me, the Admiral knows that. Both parts of that.” Penski shook his head. “Everyone in this room has had ample experience of exactly what betrayal in the name of political expediency and self-serving calculation means. And at this moment, Admiral Murphy’s trying to do something about that. Obviously, his most powerful motive is to reform the Federation, to put an end to the sort of abuses which led to the creation of the Free Worlds Alliance in the first place. But almost equally strongly, he wants the war between the Federation and the League to end. It’s gone on for sixty years, Fourth Admiral, longer than any person in this room at this moment has been alive. I don’t think most people on either side really think it ever can end, and it’s thrown up officers on your side like Xing and on our side like Yance Drebin and political leadership like our Five Hundred and your Eternal Forward. And given what was going on at Diyu, you know the Rish have been involved in it from the outset. I doubt very much that you believe in Rishathan altruism any more than I do, and you know as well as I do that they wouldn’t have been there unless they’ve got an endgame planned. One I’m pretty sure neither the Federation nor the League will like very much.
“I believe Admiral Murphy represents the best chance either of our star nations has for an end to the war. He certainly represents the best—the only—chance the Federation has of reform, and without reform, the Five Hundred will have zero interest in ending a war that’s worked so very well for them. It’s the source of their enormous wealth and the reason they’ve been able to seize effective control of what used to be a functioning star nation, when you come down to it. What possible interest could they have in ending it? So I submit to you that it would be in the true best interests of the League, as well as the Federation, for the Admiral to succeed.”
Penski paused, watching Xie’s face, and the fourth admiral puffed his lips slightly. He sat that way for a handful of heartbeats, then shrugged.
“That may all be true. In fact, I’m prepared to stipulate that it is. I’m still not certain why you’re telling me all this, however.”
“Because it’s become evident to the Admiral that he won’t be able to accomplish that without fighting after all,” Penski said. “He’d hoped—however realistically or unrealistically—that Prime Minister Schleibaum and, more importantly, the Five Hundred, would at least talk to him. He’s discovered differently. And the wave of defiance in the Fringe is spreading. You may not be aware the Cyclops Sector has gone out of compliance and joined the FWA. And I’m certain you weren’t aware that Admiral Murphy will be taking a substantial portion of his fleet—which is considerably larger than it was, after he defeated the fleet sent to drag him home in chains even more decisively than he defeated Second Admiral Xing—to defend the Bellerophon System against the punitive expedition the Heart will definitely send to crush Cyclops. I left Jalal before President Dewar’s dispatch to him about Bellerophon reached him, but I know—I know, Fourth Admiral—what that man decided when he got it.
“What matters right this minute, though—the reason I’m here—is that whatever he may have wanted or hoped for in the beginning, it’s come to open fighting. His forces killed over a hundred thousand TFN personnel in the Battle of Jalal, and it’s only going to get worse, until either he wins or the Heart manages to crush him after all. There’s no other way home now—not for him, not for the Free Worlds Alliance, and not for any hope of peace between the Federation and the League.”
“Then despite my great admiration for Admiral Murphy as both an officer and a tactician, I’m afraid those hopes are…dim,” Xie said quietly.
“Admiral Murphy has a knack for accomplishing impossible tasks,” Cormag Dewar put in. “He might as well be a Crann Bethadhan, for he’s as stubborn and as unwilling to admit anything’s impossible as ever we were.”
Heads nodded around the table, and Xie was a bit surprised to realize that one of those heads belonged to him.
“The Admiral himself would agree the odds against him are formidable,” Penski said. “On the other hand, the Five Hundred has a few challenges of its own. Including the fact that two thirds or three quarters of its military personnel are Fringers who won’t take kindly to killing their own in the Five Hundred’s service. But however true that may be, the Admiral needs every advantage he can find or create. Which is what brings me to you…and Diyu.”
Xie felt Ye stiffen beside him, and his own eyes narrowed. Surely Penski wasn’t about to suggest—
“The Admiral’s sent me to ask you to accompany me to Diyu,” the commodore continued levelly. “He’d like you to tell the League personnel marooned in Diyu about the way you and your people have been treated here. To tell them that there’s at least one Federation flag officer who damned well means it when he gives his word of honor. One Federation flag officer who will die before he breaks it.”
“And why should I do that?” Xie asked softly.
“Because Mr. O’Kirwan and Mr. MacRannall will also be accompanying me, and because I’m going there as the Admiral’s personal representative to make them an offer.”
“What sort of offer?” Xie’s voice was even softer than before.
“The Admiral intends to ask them to put the Diyu yard fully back online to support the Free Worlds Alliance and his warships,” Penski said flatly. “As his spokesman, I’ll point out all the things I just pointed out to you about his intentions and about what his success could mean for bringing this endless, bloody war to an end. And—” his lips twitched ever so slightly “—I’ll also appeal to their patriotism, by pointing out that every ship the Five Hundred and the Heart Worlds are forced to divert to fighting him is one less ship the Federation can throw at the League out in Beta Cygni. Trust me, even if he fails, before he goes down the Admiral will be the biggest, most effective military diversion the League could ever hope to find. And he’s authorized me to give all those League citizens marooned in Diyu his personal word of honor that if he succeeds, he will bring the Federation to a conference table with the League to negotiate a cease-fire and an end to the war. Obviously, he can’t control how the League responds to his offer, but he will absolutely give your star nation the opportunity to end this slaughter.
“If he survives, if he can manage all of that, Fourth Admiral, then you and all your people here in New Dublin, and all your people in Diyu, will be able to go home again after all. And your homes will still be there, without worrying about Federation K-strikes, or which of their sons and daughters will die next week, or the week after.”
“And if he survives but my own government refuses to negotiate?” Xie said. “What then? All of us will have become traitors in Eternal Forward’s eyes.” He shook his head slowly. “There will be no ‘going home’ if that happens.”
“And will there be one if he doesn’t—if we don’t—survive?” Dewar asked softly.
Xie’s eyes darted to him, and the president shook his own head.
“If Admiral Murphy goes down, so does the Free Worlds Alliance,” he said unflinchingly. “And what do you think will happen to your people here in New Dublin when the Heart moves in? At best, you’ll find yourself in a Heart World prison camp, and that’s not so very good a place to be. At worst, your camps will be hit ‘accidentally’ when they start K-striking our people. But either way, you’ll not be going home, and neither will any of your people trapped in Diyu.
“On the other hand, he might actually pull it off, here in the Federation. I’ll be honest with you, Fourth Admiral, I’m not so very sure even Terrence Murphy can come up with a solution that lets the Fringe and the Heart stay married to one another. That’s not a simple challenge like, oh, walking on water or raising the dead, after all! But it’s possible. I’m thinking it’s more probable we’ll see the Federation split asunder, though, which might just give the League the opportunity it needs for victory. More likely, the Hearts will decide they’ve no choice but to spend their own children’s blood instead of ours and go right on fighting rather than give back all they’ve gobbled up, and they’ve the bulk of the Federation’s industrial power to do the fighting with. But this I’ll tell you—if they do, they’ll not have the Fringe at their side, because the Free Worlds Alliance is tired of losing our own and killing yours in the service of two corrupt star nations that deserve neither of us. We’ll follow Murphy to make peace with the League, whatever the Federation does, and maybe even Eternal Forward will be smart enough to see the advantage in doing just that.
“Yet either way, I’ll promise you this as President of the Free Worlds Alliance. You’ll have a home here, whatever happens back in the League.” He looked into Xie’s eyes, and his voice was forged of iron. “We in the Fringe, Fourth Admiral—we know our friends. We’ve precious few of them, but we treasure the ones we have, and we’ll no more abandon you and yours, should you stand with us now, than we’d abandon our own.”
Silence hovered in the conference room for what seemed an eternity. Then Penski cleared his throat.
“I know this possibility never occurred to you, Sir,” he said. “It never would have occurred to me, either. But this offer is from Terrence Murphy. Not a politician, not a member of the Five Hundred, not a flunky of Eternal Forward. It’s coming from Terrence Murphy, and there’s no one and nothing in this galaxy that could convince him to break his word to you.
“So the question you have to answer is whether or not you believe that the way I do.”