“They don’t seem inclined to let us wander through their territory,” Commander Neeson remarked.
“If we have to fight, we will. But our purpose is reconnaissance, not battle. Victory for us in this case consists of learning as much as we can and bringing it back to human space with us.”
No one disputed that. The fleet’s ardor for battle had ebbed a bit, it seemed, now that the war with the Syndics was over. He could see the weariness on everyone’s face, feel the unseen presence of countless dead friends and companions. Yet this was also the only life these men and women knew, the only life they had ever known. As tired as they were of war, like the ground forces soldiers at Ambaru station, they knew nothing else. Change, uncertainty, was in some ways harder to face than the familiar prospect of death. They would run the risk of destruction racing against time to reach that next jump point, but if he had suggested immediately following the first proposal, to fall back and look for another way into alien space, there would have been grumbling because that wasn’t the sort of thing the fleet did when it faced a challenge. “Thank you. I’ll swing the fleet gradually around so that the slower ships, especially the auxiliaries, are closest to the jump point we’re aiming for when we start our sprint. As the fleet accelerates, the faster ships will pass through the slower ones, inverting the formation. I’ll pass the exact maneuvering orders within the next hour.”
After the fleet officers had left, Dr. Setin turned to Geary. “Admiral, I brought Dr. Shwartz to this meeting because I thought her proposals were truly based on observations and not preconceptions. However, there are two other . . . factions . . . within our group of experts. One of those, I am convinced, came along on this voyage already certain the aliens are morally superior to us and have only reacted with violence when humans have attacked.”
Desjani laughed.
“I assure you that hasn’t been the case with our encounters with the aliens thus far,” Geary said. “You mentioned two factions, though.”
“Yes. The other faction believes that the aliens must be hostile, that we will inevitably face a fight to the death with them.”
“Did these two factions ever talk to each other before this?” Desjani asked.
“No,” Dr. Setin said. “At least not when they could help it, which was most of the time. However, both factions have prepared their interpretations of what we have seen so far, and I feel obligated to ask that you review those.”
“That’s all right,” Geary replied. “One of the mistakes the Syndics made was not considering alternatives from what they believed was true of the enigma race. I can at least skim these reports to see if there’s anything in them that makes me think twice.”
“Oh. Thank you.” Dr. Setin peered at Geary. “You’re open-minded for a military person.”
“He can afford to be,” Desjani said. “I’m close-minded enough for both of us.”
Setin eyed her, clearly unable to tell if Desjani was joking, then smiled politely before his image vanished.
“I’ll leave you to your diplomatic discussions,” Desjani said as she stood up, with a dismissive glance toward Charban and Rione.
After she had left, Rione looked at Geary. “Your orders call for this fleet to discover the boundaries of space controlled by the enigma race.”
“Yes, they do. But as fleet commander, I have the discretion of responding to the situation if it requires modifying my instructions.” Geary, feeling increasingly aggravated with Rione since she hadn’t bent at all despite his forbearance with Paol Benan’s actions, kept his speech formal. “I won’t keep charging toward the galactic core as long as the enigma race and my fuel supplies hold out. We’ll reach a point where our fuel cell supply, even as augmented by new cells built by the auxiliaries, will begin declining past ninety percent. At that point, we’re heading back. I hope,” he added to see what reaction it produced, “that the grand council wouldn’t expect me to hazard this fleet by complying blindly with orders given many light years from here.”
“Senator Navarro certainly wouldn’t,” she said, neither her tone nor her expression providing any clue to anything but the literal meaning of the statement.
“I know we’ve had some sharp words,” Geary said, looking at General Charban as well now, “but I want to be certain you both understand that I consider us to be on the same side.”
“Of course we are,” Charban agreed.
Rione simply looked back at him.
THREE hours later, Geary gave the order for the fleet’s ships to pivot around and accelerate all out toward the jump point for Alihi.
ELEVEN
ELEVEN hours to the jump for Alihi. An hour after the fleet had leaped toward that jump point, the nearest alien warships suddenly swung about and raced to match the movement of the Alliance fleet.
“Captain Smythe, you need to coax more acceleration out of your auxiliaries,” Geary ordered.
“Yes, sir! Yes, sir! Three bags full!” As Smythe ended his words, he saluted in a grand manner. “Request permission to jettison twenty metric tons of raw material from Tanuki, Kupua, Titan, and Domovoi.”
“Twenty metric tons?” By any measure, that was a lot.
“From each ship. Eighty tons total. It’s the sort of thing we can most easily find along the way, like raw iron. We can just rope an asteroid or two in another star system if you want us to break it down into usable form without slowing. But I can’t get any more acceleration out of my heaviest ships without lightening their mass.”
It didn’t leave him much choice. The acceleration rates for the four big auxiliaries weren’t fast enough, and if they were destroyed here, then those tons of raw materials wouldn’t do anyone any good. “Permission granted.”
“Do you want us to throw it at anything or anyone when we jettison it?” Smythe asked. “It could make quite a splash whenever it landed.”
“No. Just drop it in a safe orbit. We’re supposed to be trying to establish peaceful relations with the enigmas, and dropping eighty tons of raw metal on them probably wouldn’t further that goal.”
As Smythe’s image vanished, Desjani spoke in a low voice as if commenting on the weather. “You need to get some rest, Admiral.”
“While we’re facing the prospect of getting annihilated by that hypernet gate?”
“Yes. There’s nothing else we can do for a while, and you can monitor the fleet’s progress from your stateroom just as well as you can from here.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “You look nervous.”
He was nervous, but he got the point. Everyone else on Dauntless would be watching him to see if he was calm or worried.
Geary stood up, moving casually. “I’m going down to my stateroom to eat something,” he told Desjani in a louder voice that carried easily across the bridge.
“What a good idea, Admiral,” she said. “I wish I’d thought of that.”
But he had barely made it down to his stateroom and checked the progress of Smythe’s auxiliaries when a call came in.
General Carabali made an apologetic grimace. “Sorry to bother you, Admiral, but I feel I should inform you that Admiral Chelak has been confined to his quarters aboard Haboob.”
“What did Chelak do?”
“He tried to pull rank on me and assume command of the Marine detachment aboard Haboob. Not too smart, really, since that’s two hundred Marines he would have had to convince to disregard my authority.”
Geary sighed. “Thank you for informing me.”
“It’s going to get worse, Admiral. They’re sitting on Haboob and Mistral with very little to do, and they’re the kind of people who are used to doing things and giving orders. I believe the only reason we haven’t had more trouble before now is that all of the former prisoners are still under the influence of long incarcerations in the Syndic labor camp, and some of them are also under the influence of truly impressive doses of medications prescribed by the fleet physicians.”
“Thank you, General. I’ll try to think of som
ething to occupy their time.” After Carabali ended the call, Geary sat looking at nothing as he tried to come up with alternatives. I can’t assign them all to check out systems on Haboob and Mistral. Even if they’d accept that job, there are a bunch of them I can’t trust with that kind of access to critical systems.
Too bad they can’t help us with the aliens.
That thought didn’t fade, instead repeating itself. Why can’t they?
He spent a moment checking on how the auxiliaries and the rest of the fleet were doing, watching the tons of raw material jettisoned by Smythe’s ships floating away from the fleet like oddly angular asteroids.
Reassured that things were going as well as they could, Geary finally made a call to Mistral. During the brief and unpleasant meeting with the liberated prisoners, one of the freed admirals had quickly backed Geary and shown no support for Chelak. A check of that admiral’s record had shown solid service and ability, with enough ambition to drive him to high rank but no indications of political ambitions. He was someone with whom Geary realized he should have already spoken and given some responsibilities. Better late than never. “Admiral Lagemann.”
Lagemann gazed back at Geary. “What’s the occasion?”
“I was hoping that you and your fellow former prisoners would help with a very important task.”
Lagemann looked very skeptical. “I personally haven’t taken it badly that you haven’t been able to devote your time to holding our hands, but I also know there’s a pretty strict limit on the number of admirals and generals you need in command positions. I’d be glad of something important to do. We’ve been counting dust bunnies in the corners of the passageways for a while now, if you need a head count on them.”
“I don’t think dust bunnies are an endangered species, Admiral. You know that we’re inside space controlled by an intelligent, nonhuman species, one which so far has acted in a hostile manner. We have little data and little experience with them, but further armed encounters are a possibility at any time. You and your comrades may not have recent combat experience, but you have a lot of knowledge and practice in operating against the enemy. You also have new eyes to look at this problem, without any preconceptions the rest of us have already developed. What I would like is for you to examine what records we have, the materials we’ve received from the Syndics and our fleet’s records, and try to analyze how the aliens think and fight. What are they likely to do in a battle? Was the situation at Midway an anomaly or the way the aliens are likely to fight in the future? What other tactics might we expect from them?”
Admiral Lagemann was thinking, and nodded. “Not make-work after all? I can’t promise anything, but that’s not the point, is it? If we do come up with something useful, it could make a big difference in fighting these creatures. If we don’t, you’ve lost nothing.”
“Exactly. Are you willing to assist in this, Admiral?”
“Yes. And I know many of my comrades will as well.” Lagemann looked to the side, breathing deeply. “This has not been an easy role for us. It will mean a great deal to have the opportunity to make a difference again. May I ask one favor in return?”
“I can’t do much about the food on Mistral.”
Lagemann grinned. “After seventeen years of Syndic rations, even fleet food tastes good. No, what I want to ask for is the opportunity to talk with you some more, specifically about tactics. I and some of the others really want the chance to learn from you more about how you fought those engagements that broke the back of the Syndics. The ways our ancestors fought.”
“Of course, Admiral.” Geary felt a pang of guilt that he had been forced to warehouse so many capable senior officers on the assault transports along with the troublemakers. “I’ll arrange for all of the records I spoke of to be forwarded to Mistral for you. If anyone on Haboob wishes to assist as well, you’re authorized to share the records with them. Would you be willing to have a talk this evening?”
“That would be welcome.” Lagemann looked down at his hand, then awkwardly brought it up in a salute. “I understand this is the latest fashion in the fleet. We’ll see you this evening, Admiral.”
Geary returned the salute, smiling. Maybe someone did try to create problems by saddling me with all those senior officers. But that doesn’t mean I can’t find some ways to turn them into assets.
HE was back on the bridge an hour before the fleet would reach the jump point for Alihi and roughly thirty-five minutes before the fleet would face the possibility of being overtaken by a nova-scale burst of energy from a collapsing hypernet gate. Because of lower-than-optimum acceleration by not only the largest auxiliaries but also some of the battleships, the fleet had lagged behind projections, and so would have a slightly longer period of exposure to that threat.
“Orion didn’t keep up,” Geary grumbled to himself.
“Neither did Revenge and Indomitable,” Desjani commented as if to herself. “You can test and tweak all you want, but sometimes equipment problems don’t show up until you actually push your gear.”
“I know that.”
“I know you know that.”
He decided not to continue that conversation.
Ten minutes until the vulnerability period began. Geary found himself staring at the depiction of the alien hypernet gate, even though there was no possible way for it to have begun collapsing unless the aliens had ordered that before the fleet even left the first jump point.
Two more alien warships had joined the first two chasing one light hour behind the Alliance fleet, moving with that unbelievable maneuverability the aliens had demonstrated at Midway.
Five minutes. The watch-standers on the bridge were all trying to act as if they were carrying out routine work, but Geary noticed their gazes repeatedly fastening on one point before each of them, the place where their own displays would be showing the alien hypernet gate.
Another necessary action had to be taken now, one contrary to every instinct to keep heading for that jump point at maximum speed. But a ship going too fast couldn’t enter jump. “All ships pivot one eight zero degrees at time five zero and brake to point one light speed.” They would be slowing down now, lengthening the period of time when danger was the greatest, but nothing could be done about that.
One minute.
Desjani yawned. “It’ll be nice to get somewhere we have the possibility of action, right, Lieutenant Yuon?”
Yuon took a moment to swallow before he answered in a fairly steady voice. “Yes, Captain.”
“How was your family on Kosatka?” Desjani continued.
“Fine, ma’am. They mainly wanted to talk about . . . you know.”
Geary glanced back at Yuon, trying to match Desjani’s own casual words. “I hope you painted me in a good light, Lieutenant.”
“Uh, yes, sir.”
“Entering vulnerability period,” the maneuvering watch announced.
Desjani pulled out a ration bar. “Hungry?” she asked Geary.
“I had something earlier. Is that a Yanika Babiya?”
“No. It’s . . .” She squinted at the label. “Spicy chicken curry.”
“A chicken curry ration bar? How are they?”
Taking a small bite, Desjani chewed slowly, pretending not to be aware that everyone on the bridge was watching her instead of staring at the representation of the alien hypernet gate. “It’s definitely got curry in it. Spicy, not so much. Some of the other stuff tastes like chicken.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down too much, does it?” Geary said.
“Every kind of meat in a ration bar tastes like chicken, Captain,” Lieutenant Castries suggested. “Except the chicken.”
“You’re right, Lieutenant,” Desjani said. “Real chicken in ration bars tastes like, what, mutton?”
“Ham,” Yuon tossed in. “Bad ham.”
“So this can’t be chicken because it tastes like chicken,” Desjani concluded.
“Fifteen minutes to jump,” the maneuvering watch repor
ted.
Geary checked the deceleration of his ships, seeing that all were braking at the proper rate to be down to point one light speed when they reached the jump point.
“What do you suppose the aliens taste like?” Desjani wondered.
“We can’t eat them,” Geary said. “They’re sentient.”
“Humans sometimes eat other humans in emergencies,” she pointed out. “Like after a shipwreck. It’s almost a naval tradition.”
“I’ve heard that,” Geary said. “Aren’t you supposed to eat the most junior personnel first?”
“That’s what I’ve heard.” Desjani looked toward her watch-standers. “Just so we have things planned out in advance, which one of you has the latest date of rank?”
The lieutenants exchanged looks and grins. “Actually, Captain,” Castries said, “Yuon and I were promoted on the same day.”
“Well, we can’t eat both of you right off the bat. I assume you’d object to using alphabetical order to decide the problem, Lieutenant Castries?”
“Not if we used first names, Captain,” Castries replied. “Mine is Xenia.”
“That would be hard to beat,” Desjani said. “Wouldn’t it, Lieutenant Bhasan Yuon?”
Yuon shook his head. “I really think Lieutenant Castries would make a better meal, Captain. I’d be tough and lean.”
“Five minutes to jump,” the maneuvering watch said.
“Maybe you two could flip a coin.” Desjani raised one finger, looking inspired. “No. I’ll just get an ensign assigned to this watch team.”
“Ensign slash emergency food supply?” Geary asked.
“We don’t have to put that in the position’s job description. It might discourage volunteers.”
“Master Chief Gioninni?” Yuon suggested.
“Lieutenant Yuon,” Desjani replied, “if Master Chief Gioninni were in the escape pod with us, he’d somehow trick the rest of us into getting eaten until he and any remaining survivors sailed grandly into some safe harbor, perhaps a world where Gioninni would convince the inhabitants to make him their ruler for life.”
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