Now he stood in the center of the room, speaking to the voice-activated control boards. The curved matte walls and floor dimmed, becoming black and star-studded. He felt as if he floated in the center of a spherical three-dimensional planetarium; it reminded him of when he was just a space soldier, training for zero-G combat, floating all alone in the vacuum, ready to shoot mirrorized drone targets.

“Display typical Ildiran Solar Navy.” He put his hands on his hips and turned around. “One entire maniple. Let’s make it a vigorous engagement.”

Images appeared, fuzzy shapes that sharpened into accurate representations of forty-nine Ildiran warliners and cutters. Lanyan paced around the images like a shark cruising through a school of fish. The gaudy warliners were large disks tilted on their sides with streaming heat-radiator fins that made them look like deep-sea predators. Knowing what he did about the aliens, Lanyan suspected that the gaudy extensions and strange shapes were ceremonial or decorative. Peacock feathers, with no military purpose whatsoever.

The Ildirans were a stagnant race. In centuries, they had made no improvements in their technology—nor had they needed to, because their empire lived in a brain-dead sort of peace, all the aliens connected by the vague, controlling thism that dampened their individuality. No one would rebel against their revered Mage-Imperator, nor would the splinter colonies ever squabble with each other. He couldn’t comprehend how the Ildirans justified using so much funding and resources to maintain the massive Solar Navy if they had no enemies. It made no military sense … unless their Mage-Imperator had other plans. General Lanyan didn’t trust him.

He had even considered the unusual possibility of recruiting a few of the massive and mysterious Klikiss robots as fighters. The ancient machines worked on hazardous construction sites and seemed willing to contribute to Hansa activities, but only if it served their unspoken purposes. For the moment, though, Lanyan had tabled the idea; he didn’t like to count on a “weapon” that was fundamentally incomprehensible. Rather, he would rely on his own military equipment.

Now, preparing for the virtual combat exercise inside the projection room, Lanyan walked around the holographic displays, reaching out to touch the hull of one Ildiran cutter. “Enlarge.”

The image grew before the General’s eyes so he could study details. The EDF had not been able to determine the specific internal layout of Ildiran warships, but these simulations were derived from actual reconnaissance images obtained during spectacular Solar Navy fleet displays. As far as Lanyan could determine, the Ildiran ceremonial maneuvers served no purpose other than to show off their military’s skill in parades. Pointless showmanship.

He stepped back, assessing how the alien ships clustered in multiples of seven, moving together with a unified precision that made them both fearsome and vulnerable in their predictability.

“Now display an equivalent number of EDF vessels,” he said. “Juggernaut-class battleships, Manta cruisers, Thunder-head weapons platforms, and Remora fast-attack fighters.”