The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Steadfast

by Jack Campbell

  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 ge
ar 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 momen
t, 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.