“No exceptions, right?” Geary said.
“No exceptions, sir,” Yuon agreed.
“Why would they pay attention to that?” Desjani demanded. “The dark ships shot up all of the shipping in this star system, they attacked Ambaru, they attacked Atalia, they attacked us. Why would they obey what fleet regulations say about fuel cell levels?”
“Dr. Nasr said the dark ships must have two ways of thinking. A set of firm instructions on what to do and what not to do, and a flexible set of programs intended to mimic human thought processes. Those flexible programs might well have allowed the dark ships to rationalize their way past limits they have encountered in the past. But Dr. Nasr said that if the dark ships ran into a new, firm prohibition, they would have a problem with it since they hadn’t yet rationalized their way past it. They would have to obey that rigid instruction until they worked around it.”
“Ancestors save us,” Desjani said. “I guess maybe our ancestors did save us.”
“They told me,” Geary blurted out, too tired and excited to hide it. “With a candle flame. Dodge and keep dodging. Don’t get caught.”
“I keep telling you to listen to them,” Desjani said. “So you saw that the dark ships were burning their fuel cells a lot faster than we were and just hoped they would run low enough before we did, and hoped that Dr. Nasr was right?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
She gazed at him wordlessly, then laughed. “We owe our miracle to fleet regulations. I will never live that down.”
“Fleet regulations had to be good for something. I’ll take my miracles in any form they care to appear.” Geary spent a long moment contemplating his display, still absorbing the reality that his fleet would not be destroyed here. “It’s tempting to try to send some ships after them, to try to follow them to their base.”
“But?”
“But the dark ships would see them following. It would be far too easy for the dark ships to leave an ambush at Montan. I can’t risk that.”
“Ask for volunteers—” Desjani began.
“No. I will not send people to die for no purpose, no matter how enthusiastically they volunteer for the task. And all of our ships are getting low on fuel cell reserves at this point, too.” Geary sighed and closed his eyes, finally letting what had happened settle into his nerves and relax them. “We’ve saved Bhavan. We’ll follow the dark ships at a distance until they jump to Montan, then head back to Varandal.”
“What if the dark ships work around the fuel cell reserve regulation before they jump for Montan?” Desjani asked.
“Then we’ll be much better positioned to engage them again, and their ships will be increasingly low on fuel cell reserves. That could be our best outcome, if they turn to fight us again with their fuel nearly exhausted.”
“Let’s hope,” she agreed. “Even the dark battleships would be helpless as their power cores shut down.”
But the dark ships apparently failed to overcome their blind adherence to fleet regulations in time. They jumped for Montan half a day later, and Geary led his battered fleet back toward Varandal, ignoring the questions now streaming in from Bhavan asking whether the threat was gone and what would happen now? He didn’t try to answer those questions because he had no answers.
—
“IT sounds like things got pretty bad at Bhavan.” Admiral Timbale grimaced unhappily. “We saw those dark battle cruisers pop out of the hypernet gate and charge for the jump point for Bhavan, but the only things we had close enough to intercept them were a few destroyers and one cruiser. Not wanting to lose any more ships in hopeless fights, I ordered them out of contact. Your Captain Duellos was very upset, but with two of his battle cruisers still in dock, he couldn’t even chase after the dark ships.”
“We survived,” Geary said. He was in his stateroom aboard Dauntless, reviewing the damage to his ships in the long fight at Bhavan and wondering whether Captain Smythe could find the funds necessary to acquire a lot of replacement fuel cells. Timbale’s call had been a welcome distraction. Geary spoke frankly to the image of the other admiral. “Which was a victory compared to what might have been.”
“Well, Black Jack can’t be beaten, right?” Timbale offered with an encouraging smile.
“He damn near was at Bhavan,” Geary said. “They apparently built those dark ships to beat me, and, for once, the government was far too successful in achieving its goals.”
“You’ll find a way,” Timbale said. “The living stars wouldn’t have given you this challenge if they didn’t think you couldn’t handle it.”
“In that case, I wish the living stars had a lot less confidence in me,” Geary said. Everyone says basically the same thing, that surely Black Jack will find a way to beat the dark ships. But Black Jack himself can’t think of a way. I sure as hell can’t beat them in a straight-up fight with what I’ve got.
Timbale smiled as if uncertain whether Geary was joking, then shifted to a resigned look. “Speaking of the government, I wanted to give you a heads-up. Orders have arrived to reassign Tsunami, Typhoon, and Haboob.”
“Why not Mistral as well?” Geary asked. “Why leave me with one assault transport?” Not that the assault transports were any use against the dark ships, but the transfers coming now did feel like adding insult to injury.
“I have no idea,” Timbale replied.
Geary paused to check Mistral’s status on his fleet database. She was in as good shape as the other assault transports. There didn’t seem to be any reason for her to be left at Varandal while the rest of her division of ships was sent off on another assignment. “Do you know where Tsunami, Typhoon, and Haboob are going?”
“Unity.”
“Unity?” Geary stared at Timbale. “Why?”
“Contingency emergency evacuation force,” Timbale explained. “That’s what the orders say.”
“Evac—?” Geary shook his head and tried to speak calmly. “They’re finally taking the dark ships seriously? I guess this is a clear sign the government has lost control of them and is afraid where the dark ships will attack next. I assume that fleet headquarters told the government that every assault transport in the fleet combined wouldn’t be able to lift off the population of Unity.”
“You can’t assume anything with headquarters, but I guess three assault transports have got enough capacity for the important people, and that’s what the government was probably worried about,” Timbale said. “Oh, and they’re supposed to take most of your Marines with them.”
“Most of my Marines? To do what, hold back the crowds trying to find space on the assault transports?”
“I don’t know, Admiral.” Timbale spread his hands. “This set of orders is clear-cut. You either do as ordered or you violate the order. There isn’t any work-around on this one.”
Geary nodded heavily. “I understand. Fine. Tsunami, Typhoon, and Haboob will go to Unity, along with . . . how many Marines exactly?”
“Two of your three brigades, plus their supporting elements. Two thousand, one hundred in total. General Carabali is to go with them.”
“Do I get to at least choose which two brigades go and which I keep?” Geary asked.
Timbale squinted at something. “Ummm . . . no. First and Second Brigades go with the assault transports. You get to keep Third Brigade. Are you feeling the love?”
“Not at the moment.” But after Timbale had ended the call, Geary sat frowning in his stateroom for a while, wondering what was really behind the orders. The government has access to a lot more assault transports than the few I had. And a lot more Marines. Why do they want mine at Unity?
He called General Carabali. “Have you heard about the orders for the assault transports and two-thirds of your Marines?”
“Just now, yes, sir.”
“Do you have any idea why the orders designated your First and Second B
rigades to go to Unity and the Third to stay here?”
“Yes, sir,” Carabali replied, a slightly apologetic note entering her voice. “While you were detached, I received a request for recommendations on which of my brigades was most effective at assaults. Based on their experience and their commander, I replied that Third Brigade was the most qualified. That may be why it was designated to stay here. I sent you a notification on the matter, but with everything else going on, you might not have noted it.”
“Thank you for being diplomatic about my not seeing it,” Geary said. “So they’re leaving me the best brigade?”
“That’s a relative term, Admiral,” Carabali said, a little stiffly this time. “All of my brigades are the best.”
“Understood,” Geary said. “And I agree with you. I should have spoken more carefully. Do you have any indication of what your mission will be at Unity?”
“No, sir.”
“Thank you, General. Let me know if you need any assistance preparing for the movement of your Marines.”
He sat back when the call ended, now having even more questions than before he had spoken to Carabali. I was thinking I might need some of my Marines if I could locate the dark ship base. Someone who could seize the dark ship facilities and disable them without destroying them. I want the evidence of those facilities if anyone tries claiming the dark ships never existed or weren’t official or some other nonsense.
If I do need some Marines for that task, it sounds like the Third Brigade is the unit I would have picked. And that’s the unit that is being left for me. But why do that without talking to me about it?
And it’s all meaningless anyway if I don’t know where the base for the dark ships is located.
Ancestors, I really, really need some help here.
The alert on his stateroom hatch announced a visitor.
NINE
“ADMIRAL.” General Charban displayed his now-usual attitude of trying not entirely successfully to deal with frustration. “I’m back from my stay on Inspire. May we speak?”
“Of course,” Geary said. “Take a seat. I imagine that you’re glad you weren’t with us at Bhavan.”
“I know something of how you must have felt, Admiral.” Charban shook his head. “I was in a few ground battles where I was praying for a miracle. Fortunately, either the living stars are fond of me or chance worked in my favor. I don’t think I would have been able to get my force intact out of a situation like that you faced at Bhavan, though.”
“You probably would have thought of something,” Geary said. “Any breakthroughs in the matter of the Dancers?” he asked, naming the alien species which resembled the unholy offspring of giant spiders and wolves, and which were the closest things to friends that humanity had found among the three alien races so far encountered. Given that the other two races, the mysterious enigmas and the homicidally aggressive (as well as cute) Kicks, were both dangerous foes, it did not take much to be friendlier toward humanity. But the Dancers, in their own, mystifying ways, did seem to regard humans as allies.
Charban sat down and shrugged. “Breakthroughs are even harder to come by with no Dancers actually present to talk to. On the other hand, I’m not dealing with vague and simplistic replies from them on a routine basis, so it could be worse.”
“It could definitely be worse,” Geary said. “The dark ships won’t even talk to us.”
“Neither would the Kicks, and the enigmas only do it when they absolutely have to. But you would think something that humans had built like the dark ships would at least give us a little respect.” Charban paused, looking upward, his eyes distant. “Being left here at Varandal did have the benefit of giving me a lot of time to think, and since I didn’t want to spend my time worrying about what might be happening at Bhavan, I spent it thinking about the Dancers. Specifically, about that trip they took.”
“Going home, you mean?”
“No, before that. The trip the Dancers took to Durnan Star System. I didn’t want to talk to other people about this because I didn’t know how important it could be, and I didn’t know whether you would want to keep it as quiet as possible. Can I see your star display?”
“Sure.” Geary called it up, the stars floating in the air between them like jewels suspended in space.
Charban leaned toward the display and used one hand to adjust its scale and focus. “Here. Let’s see. Ah. Look.” Lines appeared, one branching out from Varandal, connecting some of the stars, then going back to Varandal. “This was the path the Dancers took, jumping from star to star.”
“They were going to Durnan Star System to look at those ruins of an ancient Dancer colony,” Geary said.
“Yes,” General Charban agreed, “but aside from the question of how an ancient Dancer colony got there when it did is the question of why the Dancers took the route they did.” He indicated the lines between stars again. “It wasn’t as straight a path as it could have been going out, and wasn’t straight at all coming back. Look how they looped around on their way back to Varandal.”
Geary studied the display, intrigued. “It’s almost like the fragmentary outline of a rough sphere, isn’t it? Why would the Dancers have taken such a roundabout path?”
“I’m assuming they must have wanted to send us some kind of message,” Charban said. “But what?”
“What message could they send with a rough spherical shape?” Geary asked. “Do the names of the star systems they visited spell out anything?”
“No,” Charban said. “I think forming a coded message in the names humanity gave those stars would be even too subtle and convoluted for the Dancers. But it did occur to me that perhaps the message was not in the sphere but in what it contained.”
“What it contained?” Geary looked again. The region of space inside the rough sphere defined by the path of the Dancers contained a few stars with little or no human presence and no particular reason to visit them. “There’s nothing there.”
“What about that?” Charban asked, pointing. “Our systems can’t tell me much about it.”
Geary looked closely. “You’re pointing at a close binary star. I’m not surprised there is little in our systems about it. It’s not really worth noticing.”
“Why not?” Charban asked. He leaned over the low table between them, his extended finger almost touching the image of the binary. “Do the systems on Dauntless know anything more about it than I could have found elsewhere?”
Geary shook his head, frowning in puzzlement at the question. “Probably not, but since Dauntless is the flagship, it’s possible we might have supplemental files. We know it’s a close binary star system, two stars orbiting each other. Let’s see if there have ever been long-distance observations of that star system.” He called up the data. “Yes. It has been viewed from other star systems. That’s not the most detailed way of surveying a star system, but it does pick up larger objects. That particular binary system contains six planets in eccentric orbits, most of them probably captures of wandering planets that got too close to one of the two stars. That’s all we know.”
“That’s what I learned before.” Charban nodded in agreement, but still looked confused as well. “Why is that all we know? No one has ever gone there? Why wouldn’t the Dancers jump there if they were interested in it?”
“You don’t know?” Geary eyed Charban in astonishment that gradually changed to comprehension. “You’re ground forces. Not a sailor.”
“Or a scientist. I was pondering the last message from the Dancers, you see,” Charban explained. “‘Watch the many stars.’ And I realized that there was an alternate meaning. It could have been meant to say ‘Watch the multiple stars.’”
“Multiple stars.” Like binaries and the occasional triple star system. “Why would we watch them?”
“Why don’t we ever go to them?” Charban asked again.
“Because we can’t. Not by using jump drives. Do you know how the jump drives work?”
“Vaguely. Something about thin spots in space that the drives can take ships through into somewhere else where the distances are much shorter.”
“Right,” Geary said. “I’m not a scientist, either, but the basics are that space-time isn’t rigid. It bends. The gravity of objects makes space-time bend or dimple, as if you put a heavy object on a flexible sheet. Big objects create big dimples. Stars are massive enough to bend and stretch space-time sufficiently to create thin spots in it. Those thin spots are jump points, places where our jump drives can push ships through into jump space and back through to get out of jump space at the next star. There’s nothing in jump space except that endless gray haze—”
“And the lights,” Charban added.
“And the lights,” Geary conceded. No one knew what the lights were. They came and went at no discernible intervals for no discernible reasons. Sailors tended to regard them with superstition, but given that their nature remained unexplained, perhaps superstition was too prejudicial a word. The lights could conceivably represent just about anything, or Anyone. “The distances in jump space are far smaller than in our universe, as if jump space is a small fraction of the size. It may be, but since we can’t see any distance in jump space, we don’t know if it has limits and how small or large those limits are. But on average it only takes a week or two to get from one star to an adjacent one using jump space, where it would take ten or twenty years at a minimum on average to make that same voyage in normal space using our best technology. The important thing in answer to your question is that the thin spots, the jump points, are stable around each star, so we can find them and know they will be there when we get where we are going and when we want to come back.”
“I see,” Charban said, nodding and frowning in thought. “What does that have to do with not going to binary stars? With two stars close together, shouldn’t they have lots of jump points?”
The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Leviathan Page 18
