The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier Steadfast

THIRTEEN




“THEY’RE still using closely coordinated actions and still following the orders of some command authority who was not on the battleship.” Inspire, and Geary, were five light-minutes from rejoining the refugee-ship formation, and nearly ten light-minutes from the region of space where the heavy cruisers were moving in to tangle with the Alliance battle cruisers and destroyers. “The heavy cruisers are a distraction.”

Duellos nodded in agreement. “They won’t press the attack. They just want you looking at them instead of whatever the light cruisers try against the refugee ships. They may think you’re on Formidable or Implacable.”

“I’m still far enough away from the escorts that I need to count on Commander Pajari to do the right thing.” If he tried giving orders that would take five minutes to reach their intended recipients, based on information already five minutes older, he could seriously mess up the defense of the convoy.

The light cruisers were coming in from two directions, the original flotilla consisting of two light cruisers and four HuKs, and the second of just two light cruisers. They had pushed their velocity up to point one five light. With the convoy plodding along at point zero five light speed, that would still allow good fire-control solutions for the attackers while making it harder for the Alliance escorts to intercept the enemy. But while still short of the convoy, the light cruisers coming in from the right pulled up to race over the top of the convoy while the light cruisers and HuKs coming from the front dove down and over in a wide, reverse loop.

“Classic Syndic tricks,” Duellos said. “They want Pajari to disregard the ones in front who appear to be fleeing and chase the two zipping past just out of range overhead.”

Geary couldn’t suppress a grunt of surprise as the four remaining Alliance light cruisers leaped away from their own formation, all apparently racing in pursuit of the enemy light cruisers passing above them. Had Pajari fallen for the bait despite her words of reassurance?

But only one of the Alliance light cruisers actually steadied out in pursuit of the two bait ships. The other three kept swinging about and turning, curving along a path aimed toward the front of the refugee convoy. Half of Pajari’s destroyers had also jumped forward, moving out well ahead of the refugee ships.

The two enemy light cruisers and two HuKs there had, instead of fleeing, gone back into their loop, coming out finally, after having gone through a full circle, and heading for the refugee ships once more. But instead of finding a defense weakened by ships that had left their positions to chase the bait light cruisers, the small enemy flotilla found itself running headfirst into Pajari’s countermove.

Three Alliance light cruisers and a dozen destroyers tore into the two enemy light cruisers and four HuKs. The slashing firing run wasn’t one-sided. Parrot took two bad hits from the enemy HuKs, and Spur got battered as the enemy light cruisers concentrated their fire on her. But Spur and light cruiser Flanconade scored crippling hits on an enemy light cruiser, while the other enemy light cruiser reeled from fire coming from light cruiser Nukiwaza and a half dozen destroyers. The Alliance destroyer Flagellum got in a lucky hit on one of the HuKs, knocking out its main propulsion and leaving it helpless as well.


The surviving three HuKs fled as Pajari brought her warships back around for another firing pass. One of the enemy light cruisers fired back as it tried to limp away, but the crew of the second fled in escape pods before the second Alliance attack reached them, as did the crew of the crippled HuK.

The second firing run tore apart the still-fighting light cruiser and the abandoned HuK. The abandoned enemy light cruiser blew up as its power core overloaded under a barrage of hits.

Above and now curving slightly back from the left of the refugee-ship formation, the two bait-ship light cruisers altered their vectors as they absorbed the destruction of Flotilla One.

“They’re heading for the jump point for Tiyannak,” the operations watch on Inspire reported. “So are the HuKs surviving from Flotilla One.”

“More good news,” Duellos exclaimed, pointing to his display.

Events that had taken place over ten minutes earlier were now visible to Inspire. The two enemy heavy cruisers had pushed their diversion moves a little too far, and Captain Savik had positioned his battle cruisers just right. A sudden burst of acceleration from Formidable and Implacable had brought one of the heavy cruisers within extreme missile range, and the resulting volley from the battle cruisers had scored enough hits to slow the heavy cruiser appreciably. As its companion fled along with the two HuKs accompanying it, the stricken enemy heavy cruiser fired back in futile defiance as Implacable and Formidable swung in and blew it apart in a single attack run.

By that time, one of the three HuKs running for the jump point for Tiyannak had veered off, making a dangerously tight turn to bring it back toward the inhabited world. That would be the one HuK that Araya had thought Batara had managed to get working, probably dragooned into service with the Tiyannak forces but now reasserting independence as the former conquerors fled.

“We have met the enemy, and Batara is ours,” Duellos said with a grin.

“Not that we want it or intend keeping it,” Geary said, trying suppress his own elation.

The job wasn’t over yet.

? ? ?

EVERY one of Geary’s ships and every spy sat dropped off by them was tied into a single surveillance net by automated systems. Anything one ship or satellite could see, anyone on any ship could see just as if they were looking directly at it. Now Geary sat on the bridge of Inspire, watching his display as shuttles dropped down into atmosphere with more refugees. Already, the off-load seemed to have been going on forever, and there were close to half the refugee ships still to go.

The entire contingent of Alliance warships and all of the refugee ships were in orbit about the main inhabited world. Batara’s antiorbital defenses had chosen discretion over senseless valor, remaining silent as Geary’s warships wove their way just above the atmosphere.

The image of a speaker for the government of Batara occupied a virtual window next to Geary’s seat. “We must protest this continued violation of Batara’s sovereignty,” the speaker insisted for perhaps the sixth time since the off-load had begun with Colonel Voston’s regiment being dropped into a large, central square of the main city.

The regiment had formed a wide perimeter, clearing a big open area in the square for the shuttles to land and refugees to stay once they were dropped off. The three FACs had all been launched, their sleek, manta shapes gliding through the atmosphere and alternately hovering over the drop-off areas or swooping around the perimeter in a distinctly menacing fashion. If Batara still possessed any FACs of its own, they had stayed hidden rather than tangle with the Alliance warbirds.

“We are returning your citizens,” Geary told the speaker in a tone of voice that made it clear he wasn’t going to yield. “We have already defended your precious sovereignty by destroying the warships from Tiyannak that were operating at Batara. We will not tolerate any interference with our mission. That’s all.”

He ended the call. “Captain Duellos, have your comm people screen any more calls from that source. Unless they have something new and important to say, I don’t want to waste any more time with them.”

As if on cue, another alert sounded. Geary found himself looking at another virtual window that popped into existence, this one showing the view from Colonel Voston’s battle armor. “We got a situation developing, Admiral. My hack-and-crack platoon set up shop here when we landed and have been monitoring all comms and networks. The local government has been using code words to assemble a response to us.”

Voston turned slowly, letting Geary view what Voston’s armor was seeing. Rows of nondescript, brutally bland buildings were interrupted by openings for streets and alleys, all of them packed with people. “This is what’s going on just outside our perimeter.”

“I’ve been watching the crowds from overhead,” Geary said. “The citizens have been protesting in the streets since before we arrived in this star system.”

“It’s what’s been coming through the crowds that’s the problem,” Voston said. “They’ve been infiltrating and forming a screen between our soldiers and the crowds. Some ground forces, some of what look like police, and a lot of mob-militia types.”

“That doesn’t sound like something aimed at attacking you,” Geary said.

“It’s not. And they’re not here to protect us from the outside crowds, either. There’s a lot of comm talk going on, and a lot of it is ugly. The thugs are going to wait until we leave, then they’re going to move in and do their best to massacre every single man, woman, and child we just dropped off here.” Voston’s distaste for those waiting to attack the refugees came through clearly despite his attempt to sound impassive. “Just thought you should know.”

“What can we do?”

“You mean against the mob types? We don’t have to wait for them to move. They’re in a threatening posture. Give me the word, and we’ll start wiping them out if that’s what you want.”

“You’ve only got a regiment on the ground,” Geary said, appalled by both the situation and by Colonel Voston’s casual suggestion for handling it. “If you start shooting, the crowds may start moving against you, and you’ll be swamped.”

“We’ll go down shooting.”

“Colonel, I didn’t bring your regiment here so you could all commit suicide in a blaze of combat and glory! Between the refugees we’re dropping off and the crowds gathering around the site, there are already close to fifty thousand civilians to worry about.”

“Syndics,” Voston said.

“Civilians,” Geary repeated. “What are the numbers on the mob militias, police, and local ground forces?”

“Ummm . . . our armor sensors and my hack and cracks are estimating a few companies of ground forces, maybe five hundred cops, and a couple of thousand mob types. Odds are only the mob types will do the dirty work while the uniforms pretend to be maintaining security but actually hold back any crowds that might try to help the refugees.”

“There are a lot more than a few companies of ground forces available to the local government in that city,” Geary said.

“Yes, sir, but these are the loyalists, the ground forces that will do whatever the guys in charge say. The rest of the ground forces are probably not as high on assisting in the slaughter of their fellow citizens.”


Geary sat watching the images of the crowds. I only have a regiment of ground forces to deal with this, and another regiment tied up on the refugee ships and scattered around on all of those ships. Plus three FACs, which are doing a great job of intimidating the locals. But that’s not enough. I can’t leave Colonel Voston’s regiment down there indefinitely, and I can’t use my warships unless I want to start bombarding the city.

Wait a minute. He focused on the crowds again, remembering what the two refugee leaders had told him in their last conversation. “Colonel Kim, where are Araya and Naxos right now?”

Kim answered up immediately. “They’re on the way down. I watched them load into a shuttle half an hour ago, so they should be getting close to drop-off.”

“Excellent. Colonel Voston, I want your hack-and-crack platoon to get together with two refugee leaders named Araya and Naxos, who should be landing soon. Give Araya and Naxos full access to your gear so they can break into every available network and comm system down there and start spreading the word about what’s going on. Have both Araya and Naxos identify any other refugee leaders who can assist them in that.”

“Tell them what’s going on so they can tell the whole planet?” Voston asked. “I’m supposed to brief Syndics?”

“No, Colonel, you’re supposed to brief people who will prevent the Syndics from controlling this planet again. The local government controls the planetary comm systems and networks, but we can break in and get out whatever information we want. No one here will believe anything we say, but they’ll recognize the refugee leaders and listen to them. Once those crowds, and the not-so-loyal ground forces of this planet, find out what’s happening, they may solve this refugee problem for good in a way that won’t stain our honor.”

“Yes, sir. It’s your war.”

The crowds around the landing site kept growing as Araya and Naxos were given access to the Alliance comm gear and began blanketing planetary communication systems with their pleas and calls for a new government, as well as images of the government toughs and military forces menacing the returned refugees. Geary had to admire the way the specialists in the ground forces unit managed to get images that didn’t show any trace of the Alliance soldiers protecting the perimeter of the refugees’ landing site. As far as the vids and pictures showed, the refugees were defenseless against the looming threat of government-controlled violence.

“More local military deploying,” Colonel Voston reported, his voice and words terse. “Armor and heavy weapons as well as some leg ground forces.”

Geary took a look at part of his display, where a partial globe centered on the refugees’ landing site showed military bases over much of the planet. “They’re moving everywhere, not just near you.”

“Right. We can’t tell where they’re going, because all the orders we’re picking up from the government are telling them to remain in garrison. Those forces aren’t following those orders, though. My hack and cracks aren’t picking up anything that might tell us their intentions from the units that are moving, so if they are communicating with each other, they’re using means that no one can intercept.”

“This was a Syndic star system,” Geary said. “From what I’ve heard, figuring out how to communicate without being intercepted is a common thing in Syndic societies.”

Voston frowned. “Admiral, we don’t know why they’re moving or where. We’ve got lots of Syndics crowding us from outside our perimeter, lots of Syndics crowding us from inside the perimeter, and the numbers keep going up as the crowds get bigger, and more refugees get dropped off. If more Syndic ground forces start showing up, things could hit the fan real fast.”

“They’re not Syndics, Colonel. We’re watching them from up here, too. You’ve got three warbirds flying close support overhead and a lot of warships ready to provide bombardment support.” He knew why Colonel Voston was worried. Another virtual window before Geary showed an overhead view of the landing site. There had been a wide, open band around the Alliance soldiers protecting the perimeter, but as more refugees had arrived, their numbers had pressed outward closer to the soldiers, and the growing crowds outside the perimeter had slowly edged their way inward. Colonel Voston’s troops occupied a gradually narrowing space separating the much larger groups of what the Alliance soldiers still saw as Syndics. Even the calmest troops would be rattled under those circumstances.

“Captain Duellos,” Geary said. “Have your comm officer try to get direct contact with some of those local ground forces units that are on the move. I also want a feed here so I can listen in to the soldiers of Colonel Voston’s regiment.”

Listening to the ground forces communications, Geary could feel the battle-scarred veterans growing more nervous and more dangerous as the crowds came closer and kept growing in size and intensity. Ironically, his idea to use Araya and Naxos to stir up popular unrest was succeeding so well that it threatened to cause a disaster. If Voston’s battle-weary troops were pressed too hard and opened fire . . .

“Lieutenant Popova, this is Admiral Geary.”

“Night Witch here, sir,” Lieutenant Popova answered immediately.

“Take your warbirds as low over the refugee drop-off site as possible. I want them to look as intimidating as you can manage. We have to hold back those crowds.”

“We’re on it, sir.”

He might lack enough of other assets, but at least he had a lot of shuttles since that had been necessary to off-load all the refugees. “Captain Duellos, have your ops people help arrange the shuttles so we can pull up Colonel Voston’s regiment in only two lifts.”

“That may be difficult, Admiral,” Duellos cautioned.

“I know. That’s why I want your people working on it. I know they can make it happen.” It was half an expression of how he really felt, or hoped, and half a public statement of confidence in Duellos’s crew that might inspire them to do more than they themselves believed possible. Automated systems could spit out the numbers and the load plan in seconds, but only humans could spot unconventional ways to get around obstacles that stubborn software saw as unconquerable.

“Admiral, this is getting worse fast!” Voston called.

“I am on top of this,” Geary replied, trying to sound confident without seeming oblivious to the real problems facing Voston’s soldiers. “The crowds—”

“It’s the local military and those toughs working for the government! They’re either pushing closer on their own or forcing civilians ahead of them closer to us! We—”

Voston broke off as a single Alliance FAC roared close over his head, pivoting and braking simultaneously to drift above the thin line of Alliance soldiers, its vertical lift drives thundering out a storm of exhaust that had no effect on the soldiers in their battle armor but physically drove back the nearest civilians.

Geary checked his overhead view, seeing the other two FACs similarly employed. “We’re almost finished, Colonel. The last shuttles carrying refugees are on their way down.”

“Understood, sir.” Voston’s grin was tense, a sheen of sweat on his face. “We’ll hold the line.”

“Admiral, we have comms with a local armored unit!”


Despite his worries about Voston and his soldiers, Geary had to switch his attention to a new virtual window that popped into existence, showing a grim-faced woman in a uniform only slightly modified from its Syndicate Worlds origin. She was clearly inside an armored vehicle, one that was moving rapidly. “I need to know your intentions,” Geary said without preamble.

“Why?” the woman replied.

“Because I have troops on the ground on your planet, engaged in ensuring the safe return to your world of citizens of your world. We will leave as soon as that operation is completed. I don’t want my troops harmed, and I don’t want those citizens hurt, either.”

“You’re Alliance,” the woman spat. “You don’t—” Her eyes narrowed, regarding Geary. “My equipment gives me an ID on you. Are you Black Jack?”

“I am Admiral Geary, yes.”

The eyes widened, then the woman nodded. “We aren’t going to engage your forces unless they try to stay after returning all of our people. We are no threat to our people.”

“You are heading toward the site where we are dropping off the refugees.”

“There are others there who need to be dealt with. Internal matters.”

An alert drew Geary’s eyes to his display. “There are two drones closing on the site, as well.”

“They’re not ours,” the woman said.

“Then I’m taking them down.”

“Be my guest.”

“Lieutenant Popova, take out those drones.” He spoke to the armored forces commander again. “Hold off until I get my troops off the ground.”

The armored forces commander eyed him for a long moment, then nodded. “We have no interest in engaging your forces,” she repeated.

The window vanished, and Geary swung his head to focus on Colonel Voston once more. “The local military forces closing on your position intend engaging the other locals. They will not engage you.”

“I’d rather not take the word of a Syndic for that, Admiral!”

“You don’t have to. We’re getting you out of there.” Geary spared another few seconds to run his eyes down the lift plan that Captain Duellos’s crew had put together. “Stand by to start the lift. Tell your hack and cracks to give those two refugee leaders, Araya and Naxos, a couple of minutes’ warning before they shut down their gear to leave so the leaders can broadcast some final messages.”

“Yes, sir. Does the Admiral understand how dangerous it will be between lifts? I’ll only have half my regiment left down here against growing numbers of hostiles.”

“I understand, Colonel. We’ll get this done as quickly as possible. Lieutenant Popova,” Geary added, knowing that Voston could also hear this transmission, “you are weapons free if you spot any threats to the ground forces or the shuttles.”

“Yes, sir,” Popova replied, sounding happy. “We’ve got your six, Colonel.”

Minutes passed at a crawl despite all of the activity as the Alliance shuttles grounded, barely able to find room to land inside the now-crowded landing area, the local military forces that had left their garrisons came closer to the outer edges of the now-massive crowds surrounding that area, and the local forces and government toughs near the refugees pressed closer to the Alliance perimeter despite the aggressive movements of the FACs overhead.

“Even numbers, go!” Colonel Voston ordered. Every other soldier on the perimeter melted backwards, forming into clumps of soldiers racing toward the nearest shuttles. “Steady!” Voston called out to those still holding position.

Geary could see Voston’s movement highlighted on the overhead view. The colonel wasn’t leaving on the first lift, but was instead walking steadily along the perimeter. Geary could see majors, captains, and lieutenants from the regiment doing the same, and when he called up the data saw that every senior noncommissioned officer was still in place as well. Voston had sent up the first lift with just corporals in charge, keeping the rest of his command structure in place to help maintain stability in the half of his badly pressed regiment still forming a tenuous barrier between the refugees and local government forces.

“Back! Off! Now!” A sergeant and several Alliance soldiers had leveled weapons at local toughs, who were so close that the ends of the barrels of the Alliance weapons almost touched their bodies.

Several of the toughs paled, trying unsuccessfully to push back against the crowd behind them. They were used to beating up civilians, not facing armed and armored ground forces.

Geary was trying to figure out how to keep the situation from blowing up when he saw another sergeant leading a wedge of refugees toward the point of confrontation. “They’re taking over security here!” the sergeant called. “Fall back!”

The toughs had only a few moments to relax and start to smile as the Alliance ground forces faded backwards, before the mass of refugees charged them and swamped their front ranks in a swirl of improvised weapons and swinging fists.

Everywhere along the perimeter, the refugees were surging outward as Voston’s soldiers dropped back to where the second wave of shuttles would land. The government thugs found themselves trapped between the refugees and the antigovernment crowds pressing in behind, who had joined in the fight when violence finally erupted.

Geary hastily checked the status of the few local military units that had been backing the toughs and found them falling apart without fighting as other local forces allied with the crowds began arriving in vastly larger numbers. The local police, who had been protecting the thugs, had completely vanished, either overrun by the crowds or seeking shelter anywhere they could find it.

Voston’s soldiers backed into the shuttles, the last ones raising their weapons in triumph and shouting encouragement to the refugees while the shuttle ramps closed.

As the last shuttles bounded upward, a single shoulder-fired missile bolted through the air after them.

Geary didn’t have time to order any response, but he didn’t have to. The FAC flown by Nightstalker whipped around, slicing between the rising shuttles and missile, popping out flares, chaff, and other decoys that caused the missile to weave back and forth before locking on a decoy and detonating far from the shuttles.

While Nightstalker handled the missile, Night Witch had taken care of the launcher. Geary saw a single shot slam into a small crowd of mob toughs on a flat rooftop, scattering the thugs and leaving a hole in the top of the building, along with three toughs who had never had time to regret their mistake.

The three FACs did victory rolls over the roiling mass of refugees and other civilians in the square, then sprinted skyward in the wake of the shuttles.

“Pilots!” Duellos muttered. “Do they always have to show off?”

“I think so,” Geary said. “Pilots were like that a century ago, too. They can’t just be good; they have to make sure everyone else knows how good they are.”

“Black Jack!” Another comm window, this one showing the refugee leader Araya and, in the background, the local armored forces commander who had spoken to Geary earlier. “Thank you! Naxos was right, you are hard copy. But this is our fight now!”

“Good luck,” Geary said.

By the time all of the shuttles were recovered and Geary led his task force away from the planet, he could watch intercepted broadcasts showing that the crowds were storming the hall of government, chanting demands for freedom, backed by substantial military forces which had joined the revolt.


“Freedom,” Duellos repeated as he watched the reports from the planet. “Will they really get freedom?”

“That’s up to them,” Geary said.

He cut loose the former refugee ships, whose crews aggrievedly demanded pay for their long chore hauling and housing the refugees, but when offered the chance to plead their case to any of the governments in local star systems chose instead to head out in search of more profitable activities. The leased freighters carrying the two regiments of ground forces, Kim’s now consolidated along with Voston’s, were sent with a strong escort toward the jump point back to Yokai, then Adriana, while Geary took the rest of the warships to the jump point for Tiyannak.

“Is this covered by your orders?” Duellos said.

“Tanya wouldn’t be asking me that. She’d be happy that I assumed it was a necessary part of solving the refugee problem. And it is.”

It took an extra two weeks to jump to Tiyannak, ensure that the heavy cruiser, light cruisers, and HuKs that had escaped at Batara were still fleeing as fast as they could run, launch a mass of bombardment projectiles aimed at the former Syndic shipyards and refitting facilities there, where a few more warships still sat in various stages of repair and refit, then return to Batara with the knowledge that Tiyannak would no longer be able to support offensive operations against its neighbors.

The squadron to which Night Witch, Catnap, and Nightstalker belonged had begun setting up camp in the partially reactivated facility at Yokai. Geary dropped off the pilots and their FACs along with some sincere appreciation for their support, then headed back for Adriana.

As he prepared to leave the bridge of Inspire, the FAC base dwindling behind them, Geary paused to listen to Duellos as he spoke to a virtual window showing one of his senior noncommissioned officers.

“Give them whatever assistance we can,” Duellos said, sounding unusually aggravated. “And let me know when our own is completely straightened out.”

“Is something wrong?” Geary asked.

“Software updates,” Duellos said in the same persecuted tone of voice that Colonel Galland had used a few weeks ago. He closed the virtual window and pointed astern. “The FAC base techs made a backdoor request for assistance from my code monkeys because they’re having particularly bad problems running the accumulated updates on the gear that was mothballed here.”

“Aerospace forces software techs asked fleet techs for assistance?” Geary asked. “Voluntarily?”

“Amazing, isn’t it? Everybody’s code monkeys tend to get along and help each other out regardless of institutional rivalries. I am told they actually call it the Code of the Monkeys though I may have been getting my leg pulled.”

Geary cast a worried glance at the image of the FAC base, floating serenely in space. Additional lights could be seen on a portion of it, where the aerospace forces were reactivating enough compartments and equipment to support them. “What’s their problem? The same sort of stuff that afflicted the FACs at Adrianna?”

“No. The warbirds appear to be all right. They were all updated before they deployed here. This time it’s the software in the sensor and combat systems on the base.” Duellos waved a grand gesture. “My senior chief code cracker says the New! Improved! Intuitive! updates on the FAC base appear to be causing fights between the base’s subsystems.”

Geary shook his head, wondering why news of troubles with software updates was ever surprising. “Are there similar problems on Inspire?”

“Nothing nearly that bad, but some of the updates aren’t playing as well as they should with the others.” Duellos gave Geary a lopsided grin. “The FAC base systems were even suffering bleed-throughs from training-sim software.”

“Bleed-throughs?”

“Somehow, information from inactive training sims was showing up as active, real detections, before vanishing completely as their systems caught up with it, to be spotted by something else, then disappearing again almost as fast as the systems scrubbed the bad data.”

“And they’re sure these aren’t real detections?” Geary pressed. “We’ve seen some unusual stealth capabilities with the Dancers.”

Duellos smiled again. “The purported sightings were of a battle cruiser and two heavy cruisers. I think we’d be able to spot that bunch. My people cross-checked our own systems and confirmed that we’d seen nothing during the transient reports of those warships. If someone really could hide ships of that size, and those ships’ stealth really had stumbled for a second or two, we would have seen them as well.”

“You’re right, and nothing the size of a battle cruiser could be hidden using even the best stealth gear. It wouldn’t be the first set of updates that were buggy,” Geary said. “Are we certain that’s what this is? An update with bugs in it? Are there any signs of malware?”

“None, Admiral,” Duellos answered. “That was the first thing my people checked. There’s no sign of sabotage unless, like Colonel Galland, you believe that software updates are inherently acts of sabotage aimed at users.”

“Based on my own experience, I have a lot of sympathy for Colonel Galland’s opinion on that,” Geary said. “Do we need to hang around that base in order to help the aerospace techs?”

“No, Admiral. I would have let you know if that was an issue. My people can provide any necessary assistance remotely.”

“Good. I want to know when that’s cleared up,” Geary said. “That single FAC squadron has barely enough capability to maintain security here as it is. We can’t afford to have them chasing after software ghosts when we have enough real problems to worry about.”

Several hours later, Duellos reported that the software in the systems on the FAC facility was, if not totally pacified, at least no longer engaged in active friendly fire among its own subsystems.

Geary took advantage of the time spent getting the rest of the way through Yokai, and in jump to Adriana, to compile his report to fleet headquarters. He had a particularly hard time describing the loss of Fleche without using words and phrasing that cast guilt on the high-level fleet decisions that had ended up requiring his mission to Batara. As much as he might believe that, it had no place among the dry, official language of the report.

As they arrived at Adriana, Geary found that an official courier ship had shown up in their absence and was waiting near the hypernet gate.

“Probably dispatched by fleet headquarters,” Duellos commented to Geary, “so they can find out as quickly as possible whether you’ve cleaned up their mess, or whether disaster has struck, and they need to start blaming you for the whole thing without any further delay.”

“Let’s not keep them waiting,” Geary replied, transmitting his report. In a few hours they received the receipt for the report from the courier ship and watched as it accelerated into the hypernet gate. Clearly, it had been waiting just for his return.

Everyone at Adriana (except General Sissons) seemed happy with the outcome of the mission. Finally, with a sincerely fond farewell to Colonel Galland and a request that she look him up if she ever needed anything, Geary took his ships back to the hypernet gate, en route Varandal.

? ? ?

“MIND if I come in?” Geary asked as he stood in the hatch to Captain Duellos’s stateroom. The enforced isolation of travel inside the hypernet had left him time to decide something.


Duellos stood and waved Geary inside. “Anytime, Admiral. Is this visit official or personal?”

“Both.” Geary took a seat, once again unsettled a bit by the close resemblance of the captain’s stateroom on Inspire to that on Dauntless. Aside from a few private mementos, this could have been Tanya’s stateroom, a compartment he had rarely visited to avoid potential gossip. He waited until Duellos sat down again at his desk before saying more. “Inspire took some major damage to her main propulsion at Batara. Once we get back to Varandal, she’ll be out of commission for a while as the repairs are carried out.”

Duellos leaned back and twisted his mouth in a dissatisfied way. “I wish I could disagree with that assessment, but it is accurate. The only question is exactly how many weeks the repairs will take.”

“Which leads me to the reason for my visit. Roberto, this is a personal counseling session. We’re off the record. Inspire won’t need you while she’s laid up in dock. I would like you to take leave as soon as we return to Varandal so you have the opportunity to deal with some important matters at home.”

It took a moment for Duellos to reply. “Tanya’s been talking to you?”

“She let me know you’re facing a difficult situation, and I could see during my time aboard Inspire with you that you’ve been more on edge lately. Don’t mistake me. Your performance as a commanding officer has not suffered. But I can tell you’re under stress.”

“It’s not an easy situation,” Duellos said, sighing and seeming to sag in his seat as if he had partly deflated. “My wife isn’t wrong. I have responsibilities at home. My heart remains at home. But . . .”

“You need to talk it out.”

“I’m not sure that will help.”

Geary looked down, biting his lip, before raising his gaze back to Duellos. “My executive officer on Merlon had the same difficulty. Lieutenant Commander Cara Decala. She loved being in the big dark, traveling to other star systems, doing everything the fleet did. Her spouse had close ties at home, no desire at all for extensive travel, and wanted Cara at home, too.”

“I see. Somewhat like my own situation now. How did that work out for her?” Duellos asked.

“I . . . don’t know. Cara was supposed to go on leave, go home, and talk it out, once the convoy we were escorting had reached its destination. But the Syndics attacked us at Grendel. I had to order her off the ship when the crew evacuated.” Geary paused, his gaze distant as he remembered the chaos and alarm that had seemed to fill the universe as Merlon was destroyed around him. Events a century ago, which to him felt but a short time in the past. “I discovered after being reawakened that Cara had got off all right, and was picked up, but . . . she had died a few years later, commanding her own ship in another battle. I never learned whether she had ever had a chance to go home, to reconcile things, whether she had died still united in spirit even if separated by distance, or if she had been separated in all ways when the end came.”

Almost a minute passed in silence before Duellos replied. “I see. You never know when the last chance to say the right things will come and pass by. But, Admiral, I don’t want to leave while we don’t know what might happen to the fleet. You do need all of us.”

“I’ll have Tanya again when we get back to Varandal.”

“True. She’s worth more to you than all the rest of us combined.”

“And I suspect that your wife is more important to you than I, or this fleet, are,” Geary added.

Duellos smiled. “That is true.”

“Take leave as soon as we get back to Varandal. Go home. Talk. Whatever happens, let it be something you decided on, not something you let happen.”

“Yes. You’re right. Thank you.” As Geary got up to leave, Duellos fixed him with a demanding look. “What if I had said no? Would you have ordered me to go on leave?”

“Yes.” Geary paused in the hatch, looking back at Duellos. “You’ve already given the fleet, and the Alliance, a lifetime’s worth of sacrifice. I hope you’ll be back. But if you decide otherwise, you’ve more than earned it.”

“Thank you,” Duellos said again.

Geary left, the hatch closing behind him, and walked slowly back to his stateroom, pausing to speak to some of the crew members whom he met on the way, asking about their homes and their lives, letting them know that he cared and that he knew those things mattered.

Because you never did know when it might be too late to say such things.

? ? ?

“I hope you’re not expecting them to be grateful,” Tanya Desjani grumbled as they left the shuttle dock on Dauntless, where the crew had just welcomed back Admiral Geary in nicely turned out formations and immaculate uniforms.

“The people of Batara?” Geary asked.

“Them, too. But I meant fleet staff. Just because you bailed them out of the mess they created doesn’t mean they’ll stop trying to undermine you.”

Geary smiled. “Fleet staff will be busy for a while answering questions from the Senate about why they let the security situation around Adriana get so bad. I bailed them out, but I didn’t take the fall for their decisions.”

They reached his stateroom and Geary waved her inside, but Desjani hesitated. “I don’t want anyone thinking we’re having a warm reunion   now that you’re back.”

“Oh.” She had a point. It had been hard to avoid wrapping his arms around Tanya when he had seen her again. “Stand in the hatchway, then.”

“Thank you for sounding disappointed.” She leaned against one side of the hatch coaming, arms crossed. “I thought you wanted nothing more than to avoid the press.”

“That’s how I usually feel, yes,” Geary admitted, sitting down and enjoying the sense of being back where he belonged, aboard Dauntless.

“Do you have any idea how much press coverage there has been of your question-and-answer session at Adriana? And the visit to the orphans?”

Geary blew out a long breath, leaning back resignedly. “What are they saying?”

“Most of them think it was all very Black Jack.” She smiled at the expression on Geary’s face. “In a good way. Some wondered whether you were positioning yourself to run for political office—”

“Ancestors save me, no!”

“—and others hinted at darker ambitions, but most just cheered on the protector of the Alliance.”

“That could have been worse,” Geary said. “I just want people to stop worrying about what others are going to do and start wondering what they can do. I wondered if going to the academy at Adriana was the right thing or if I’d be accused of using the children as political props.”

“Yes, it was absolutely the right thing,” Desjani said. “Those kids are sort of the conscience of the Alliance. Too many of us can too easily imagine being in their place, and worried about our own children ending up in one of the academies. You did the right thing, there,” she repeated, then paused, just smiling at him.

“What?” Geary finally asked.

“I was watching you say those things, in all those press reports, about how we’d rebuild and make a better future because that was who we are, and I thought, I ought to marry that man because I’ll never find anyone better. And then I remembered that I had.”


He gave her an astonished look. “We’re on duty.”

“Well . . . damn. Yes, we are. Even I slip once in a while, Admiral.” She winked at him, then adopted a studiously professional expression. “Have you talked to Captain Jane Geary since you got back, sir?”

“No. I wanted to talk in person, not over a comm line that would probably have eavesdroppers no matter what kind of encryption we used. It was a relief to see that she and her ships got back intact.”

“Her mission wasn’t a wild-goose chase, either. It may still have been intended to get her away from Varandal, but it was real enough. She’s standing by to talk to you.” Tanya saw his hesitation and smiled crookedly. “Relax. This is Admiral to Captain, not Great-Uncle to Grand-Niece.”

Geary snorted. “My grand-niece is biologically older than I am, since she wasn’t frozen for a century like I was.”

“That’s not what’s bothering you. It still concerns you that she grew up hating the legend of Black Jack that has warped the life of every Geary for the last hundred years. You know she feels a lot differently now, having gotten to know you.”

He shook his head. “I can’t forget that her brother Michael probably died right after I assumed command. I don’t see any way she can forget.”

Desjani nodded, sadly. “She knows Michael Geary chose to sacrifice his ship and maybe himself as well. I honestly don’t think she blames you for that. You know that Michael Geary himself didn’t blame you. Stop blaming yourself. We don’t know how many of his crew survived and whether he himself still lives. For now, Captain Geary is waiting to talk to you, Admiral.”

“Thank you.” He said it in a way that made it clear he was thanking her for a lot more than her last words. Tapping a control, he saw Jane Geary’s image appear almost immediately in response. As usual, he couldn’t help searching for resemblances in her to his long-dead brother, her grandfather. “Welcome back, Admiral,” she said.

“Welcome back to you as well,” he replied.

“I can provide a detailed report in person later,” Jane Geary continued, “but to summarize, my ships brought back about ten thousand Alliance prisoners of war, most of them elderly, from the middle period of the war.”

“You didn’t run into any problems? The Syndics cooperated with the prisoner handover?”

“Yes, Admiral.” Jane smiled thinly. “It was a matter of profit and loss for them. A few Syndic star system CEOs had gathered the Alliance POWs together to hand them back to us so they could close down the POW camps they controlled and save some money. I got the impression that the central Syndic government is offering many star systems a lot more autonomy because otherwise they might revolt.”

Tanya nodded again. “In addition to Captain Geary’s experience, Lieutenant Iger received a report, which is in your in-box, saying the Syndic internal security forces are going along because a more-loosely-controlled star system with all of the internal security apparatus intact and ready to mobilize is a lot better for them than a rebellious star system with the internal security forces all massacred by the locals.”

“If they’re thinking long-term for once,” Geary said to both of them, “that would be a smart policy.”

“Then let’s hope they don’t stick to it,” Jane Geary said, her voice growing rougher with the old hate fostered by a century of war and reinforced by recent Syndic behavior. She made a face. “Captain Michael Geary wasn’t among the POWs.”

“I’m sorry.” It was a grossly inadequate thing to say, but the only thing he could say.

Jane Geary nodded, a shadow of emotion crossing her face. “Judging by the way the Syndics have been messing with us in most matters, despite the peace agreement, if Michael was taken prisoner when Repulse was destroyed, they will be holding him as a hidden card to use against us. Have you . . . heard anything?”

The way the question was phrased told him that Jane wasn’t asking about official reporting or anything like that. “Our ancestors haven’t spoken to me about that. But I haven’t sensed any message from Michael among them, either.” The meaning of that was ambiguous at best, but messages from the ancestors were usually like that.

“I haven’t, either.” Jane frowned, realizing that they had veered onto personal topics better discussed in person. “That’s all I have for now, Admiral.”

“Let’s get together tomorrow,” Geary said. “It’s always good to see you again.”

As Jane Geary’s image disappeared, Tanya, sensing his distress, abruptly changed the subject. “I hear that Roberto Duellos is going on leave for a while.”

Geary nodded, feeling relieved to be back on more comfortable ground. “Inspire is going to be in dock to get her main propulsion units and some hull structure damage repaired. He didn’t have any professional excuse to stay here, so I suggested he go home and talk to his wife. I told him they had to make some decisions together, or they’d each be making them alone before long.”

Desjani regarded him closely. “You’ve been doing some thinking, too, haven’t you?”

“Yes. Tanya, in some ways it was good to be away from you.”

“What?”

“I mean, it’s hard to think when you’re there. You’re distracting and you demand my attention and—”

She had stood straight, her arms coming out of their relaxed crossed stance. “I’m demanding?”

The temperature in his stateroom seemed to have abruptly dropped by several degrees. “You know what I mean.”

“No. No, I don’t.”

Geary stood up, making a calming gesture. “Then let me explain. When you’re there, I don’t need to ask myself why I’m here. You provide all of the answers, just by being there. You’re my reasons.”

“Oh, please.”

“I’m serious!” He gestured toward the star display with a wide sweep of one arm. “But out there, you weren’t around. I had to think about that. I knew what I could do, but what should I do? I’ve had this growing sense that the answer was coming to me, and when I was in a meeting with the government of Adriana and the other Alliance commanders in that star system, I found the start of an answer. I thought more, and I talked to our ancestors, and I think I get it now.”

Her hostility had vanished, replaced by curiosity. “And the answer is?”

Geary sat down, frowning at his hands in his lap as he tried to find the right words. “We think that the Dancers believe the universe is a pattern, that everything is a pattern, and we think they act to make the pattern right and strong. What if there’s some truth to that which we humans can see? What kind of pattern do I want to exist, and how can I add to that pattern and make it stronger? Maybe the pattern of humanity is completely coming apart, shredded by our own actions, including the war, and the covert sabotage by the enigmas. Maybe I can still help fix it. Maybe I was given this ability to influence events so I can help make our pattern strong again.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “How many times have I told you that exact same thing?”

“You never said anything to me about my place in a pattern.”

“All right, maybe I didn’t use the exact same words when telling you the exact same thing, but that doesn’t matter. Maybe being away from me gave you time to finally listen to me instead of being, um, distracted by me.”


Geary sighed. “I didn’t mean distracted in a bad way.”

“You know what, Admiral? I’m going to save you by not pursuing that line of conversation any further.”

“Thank you.” He moved his hands as if trying to shape something. “That’s what I decided to do at Adriana and Batara, to do what I could to strengthen what I thought would be the best pattern. I got a lot of confidence from that because it finally focused me on something other than the mistakes I might make. I may get raked over the coals for talking to the press so freely and for exceeding the letter of my orders, but they said to deal with the refugee problem, so I did what I thought best to resolve that issue for the long term and to leave Alliance security in that region in much better shape. And I planted some seeds at Adriana and at Batara, while also knocking down the threat of Tiyannak, that might bear some good long-term outcomes for everyone in that part of space.”

Tanya nodded, still smiling. “And you also blew up a lot of stuff. So I’m good with all that.”

“Is there anything else I need to know that isn’t in the official status reports and can’t be said over any supposedly secure circuits?”

“Yes.” Her smile disappeared. “You got a message from that woman. It came in two days ago.”

Geary frowned at Desjani’s tone, trying to parse the emotions behind it and failing. “I’ll check it—”

“You don’t have to. It was security-sealed eyes only for you, but it opened for me, too.” Desjani didn’t say what they both knew, that Rione must have set it that way. “The entire message was one word, and that was ‘missing.’”

“The one word was missing?” Geary asked, confused.

“No,” Desjani repeated patiently. “The entire message consisted of only one word, and that word said ‘missing.’”

There was only a single likely meaning for that. “Her husband.”

“Yeah.”

“They were supposed to be lifting the mental block on him!” Geary yelled in sudden anger. “They were supposed to be repairing the mental and emotional damage the block caused!”

“Maybe they are, but wherever they’re doing it, that woman can’t find him.”

“If Rione can’t find him . . .” Geary muttered.

“Yeah,” Desjani repeated. “I can’t stand her, but I don’t underestimate her. Her husband must be hidden very, very well.”

Hidden along with the secrets her husband knew about an Alliance biological warfare program that would at the least embarrass some senior officials and might lead to some being charged with war crimes. “Unity Alternate,” Geary said angrily.

“Unity Alternate? I can’t remember the last time I heard that joke.” Desjani grimaced. “But if a place like that existed, it would be a good place to hide him. And Admiral Bloch.”

“Still no word on Bloch?”

“No. It’s as if he vanished off the space of the galaxy, like someone dumped him out an air lock in jump space.” She looked thoughtful. “I doubt we were lucky enough for that to have happened, though.”

“I’m not sure I would wish that even on Bloch,” Geary said, trying to suppress a shudder at the idea of body and soul being lost forever in the gray nothingness of jump space.

“I might,” she replied. “He made a heavy-handed pass at me before that last campaign, you know.”

“He . . . what?”

“Yeah. Came aboard, I escorted him to his stateroom, this stateroom, and he went over by the bed, then looked at me and said something like You could make admiral yourself someday if you did the right things for the right people. You could start right now.”

Geary’s earlier emotions were lost in a surge of red rage. “You were already in his chain of command, you were a captain in the fleet, and he . . .”

“Yes, he did.”

“On your own ship!” Geary’s anger was replaced by a rush of puzzlement. “You didn’t kill him?”

“Killing superior officers is frowned upon in fleet regulations. Didn’t we go over that at some point?”

“You could have brought charges!”

She shook her head. “I knew he was wearing the same personal security that the politicians do. Nothing he was saying could be recorded by any of the ship’s systems. It would have been my word against his, fleet commander versus one of his subordinates who already had a reputation for her attitude. I’ve been known to fight hopeless battles, Admiral, but I took a pass on that one.” Her smile held a very sharp edge. “But I also made it clear what would happen if he made another pass like that at me.”

“If I see him again—”

“Admiral,” Desjani interrupted. “I dealt with it. If it had gone beyond words, I would have brought charges. And I told him that I’d be keeping an eye on him, so I’d know if he tried anything with any of my crew.”

Geary shook his head, still enraged. What surprised him was the realization that while he had been appalled by the idea of Bloch or anyone else breaking their oaths to the Alliance and staging a military coup, he was far more disgusted to know that Bloch had broken faith with his responsibilities as a commander, with his responsibilities to his subordinates, and with everyone else serving. I was already determined to stop Bloch if he tried anything. But now, it’s personal.

? ? ?

THE next day, as he was working in his stateroom, still trying to catch up on the status of the First Fleet while fending off requests from the media for more interviews, an urgent call interrupted him. Geary felt a wave of guilty relief at the interruption because plowing through status reports for hundreds of ships and thousands of personnel had never been his idea of a fun time.

“Diamond is back,” Desjani reported.

Diamond? It took a moment for him to recall what the special significance of that heavy cruiser was. “Are the Dancers with her?”

“Not y— Hold on. There they are. All six Dancer ships also arrived. They all came in at a jump point two and a half light-hours from our current orbit.”

General Charban had called in as soon as Diamond arrived at Varandal, his message arriving right after the light revealing the presence of the ships.

Charban looked fairly well rested for once, which Geary realized had to be because he had been able to relax in jump space, where communications with the Dancers were impossible. “You’ll be pleased to hear that the Dancers had an understandable reason for going to Durnan Star System, Admiral. They wanted to check on the remains of a Dancer settlement that had once been there. I know what you’re thinking. How did we miss the presence of ruins of a settlement belonging to an alien species on a heavily populated planet in a star system long occupied by humans?

“According to the local authorities, in the time I had to speak with them, the ancient ruins in question were so odd, so unlike those of any human structures, that they were labeled natural features that just happened to resemble the work of intelligent creatures. Apparently, the concept of alien remains a little unclear among our experts in the field. However, the Dancers also got across to me that their settlement should have been much larger than the small area of ruins that still exist. Somehow, most of the settlement was obliterated so thoroughly that no remains could be detected, nor signs of the destruction.”


Desjani nodded sharply as she heard that part. “Enigmas. It must have been them. You remember how they wiped out any trace of human presence in places like Hina Star System.”

“Something must have interrupted the enigmas in their work at Durnan,” Geary speculated. “The arrival of the first human colony ships?”

“What the hell were Dancers and enigmas doing so deep in what became human space?” Desjani wondered.

Charban was still speaking. “I could not determine from the Dancers why they had long ago attempted to place a colony at Durnan, which is a very long distance from the region of space they currently occupy. They did not express any desire to reoccupy the star system, they did not claim any ownership, they did not even try to claim the ruins. I got the impression that what mattered to them was that someone still lived in that star system. Someone intelligent, that is. After determining that no records or remains of their own kind were located at or near the ruins, the Dancers headed toward the jump point for Kami.

“All they did at Kami was transit through the system, heading straight for the jump for Taranis. At Taranis, they spent a long time traveling through the star system, but wouldn’t explain what they were doing or why. Then they jumped for Dogoda.

“Long story short, we went on a tour of star systems, tending gradually back toward this part of space, until the Dancers finally jumped for Varandal again. Aside from the stop at Durnan, we’re not sure what the purposes of any of the other visits were. Nor am I sure they will remain at Varandal.”

Charban paused, looking worried. “I do have the distinct impression that the Dancers are agitated about something they refer to as unraveling. But who or what is unraveling, they don’t say. I’ll speak more with you as we get closer to your ship and a real conversation is possible. Charban, out.”

“Maybe they were looking for signs of survivors from that settlement who might have tried to get back home,” Desjani speculated. “Here’s how their trip looks on a display.”

The image popped up over the stateroom’s table, a three-dimensional star map with the path of the Dancers through Alliance space marked by glowing lines. “If there’s supposed to be some shape or pattern to that, I can’t see it,” Geary commented.

“It’s sort of a warped sphere, isn’t it? They came back here by a roundabout route so there would have to be something circular about their path. About that unraveling thing, Admiral. I’ve got a suspicion that the Dancers have some sort of faster-than-light communications capability just like the enigmas do.”

“That’s possible. We have no idea how long those two species have been in contact. But the enigma system isn’t instantaneous and doesn’t appear to be capable of sending much data or detail.”

Desjani nodded. “Exactly. Maybe the Dancers themselves don’t know what the problem is. Maybe they got a message that caused them to bolt for Durnan, then later some other stuff that got them worried but couldn’t tell them exactly what’s going on.”

“That’s possible,” Geary repeated. “We can’t know if it’s true, though.”

“If it is true, then I predict the next thing we hear from the Dancers will be an announcement that they want to go home.”

It took barely six hours for Desjani’s prediction to be proven accurate.

“The Dancers want to leave,” Charban reported. “They want to leave soon. They want us to escort them back through Syndic space via the Syndic hypernet to Midway. I’m pretty certain that they intend saying farewell to us at Midway and going the rest of the way home on their own.”

Oh, great. Geary gazed sourly at the representation of the Dancer ships on his display. Here I am, reading the latest government communication directing me to convince the Dancers to visit the Alliance capital at Unity, and the Dancers instead want to leave without ever having gone there. And this morning I got a message saying a team of official alien liaison experts is coming to Varandal to take over all future interactions with the Dancers, but they’re not scheduled to arrive for another two weeks at the earliest.

Charban was wrapping up. “I’ll try to get them to define what they mean by soon. Charban, out.”

Back through Syndic territory. Through the Syndic hypernet, which could be manipulated by the Syndic government to block gates, and through star systems governed by people who had signed a peace agreement but were still waging a form of covert war on the Alliance. The Syndics had already demonstrated their intent to keep destroying Alliance warships when possible, and had not been thrilled to know that the Alliance was establishing friendly contact with the Dancers, a friendly contact that could be disrupted if the Dancer emissaries being escorted by the Alliance suffered from “accidents” while in Syndic space. “Tanya? We’ve got a problem.”

She was in her own stateroom, the lights dimmed except the work light on her desk. “What is it this time?”

“We might have to take off, fast, to escort the Dancers back to Midway.”

“I guess the living stars decided to shower more blessings upon us,” Desjani commented. “Fast? We can’t get the fleet ready to roll that far in a short time.”

“I know. How much of the fleet should we try to bring?”

She spread her hands. “You said it. Fast. As many of the battle cruisers as we can get ready, and enough light cruisers and destroyers to match. We can cannibalize fuel cells from the ships that aren’t coming to overstock the ones that are going. If we only have a few days to work with, that’s the best option.”

Geary thought about it, calling up ship status reports, then cursing under his breath as he remembered that they were all falsified. He would have to order individual ship captains to send him accurate reports. “I think you’re right. We need to go fast through Syndic space. Get in and get out before the Syndic government on Prime can find out and block any of their gates to our use. Can we do that?”

“I’ll have my officers run the numbers, but I think so. We’ll use the Syndic hypernet gate at Indras again? Indras is a lot closer to Prime than Midway is, but that’s all to the good since longer hypernet trips take less time than shorter ones. As long as we enter Midway’s gate to get home before the Syndics can block it, we’ll be home free.”

“As home free as we can be in Syndic space,” Geary corrected. “The Syndics shouldn’t have time to set up any nasty ambushes.”

Unless they already had some ambushes ready to go.

At least he had a little more time to get his ships ready for this operation.

? ? ?

“NOW,” Charban said. Diamond had continued in-system and was only a couple of light-minutes distant from Dauntless, making a real conversation possible if also awkwardly drawn out waiting for a reply to come back. “The Dancers say they must leave now.”