The Lost Fleet: Dauntless

by Jack Campbell

  “What to do, sir. They’re discussing and debating what to do following the death of Admiral Bloch and all of the other flag rank officers.”

  “They’re what?” Inside Geary, ice cracked. “Weren’t they also informed I’d been placed in command of the fleet by Admiral Bloch?”

  “Yes…sir.”

  “Haven’t any of them contacted the flagship for instructions?”

  Desjani’s face, recently radiant with hope, now picked up another emotion, the wariness of an experienced officer when his or her boss showed signs of cycling off of the nearest bulkhead. “Uh…no, sir. There’ve been no communications addressed to the flagship.”

  “They’re debating what to do and they haven’t even contacted the flagship?” Geary couldn’t quite grasp the idea. Letting the custom of saluting fall by the wayside was one thing, but individual ship captains ignoring the presence of higher authority? What had happened to the Alliance fleet he’d known? Captain Desjani was eyeing him, waiting for the explosion she seemed certain was coming. Instead, he spoke with forced calm as the right words came from somewhere inside him, spooling out like an ancient recording brought to life. “Captain. Please contact the commanding officers of every ship. Inform them that the fleet commander requires their presence at a conference onboard the flagship.”

  “We have less than a hour left before the Syndic deadline, Captain Geary.”

  “I’m aware of that, Captain Desjani.” And I’m increasingly aware that I need to show these people I’m in command before this fleet falls apart, and I need to learn something about them before I seriously misjudge anything critical. I know too damn little about everything. “Admiral Bloch showed me his conference room. He said he could gather his captains for a virtual meeting there.”

  “Yes, sir. The necessary data net is still functioning within the fleet.”

  “Good. I want them ready at that conference in ten minutes, and to acknowledge that order individually within five minutes, and if any one of them tries to beg off, tell them attendance is mandatory.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He remembered with a start of guilt that he’d been ordering around the captain of a ship on her own vessel without any special courtesy. He’d hated that kind of thing, once, when it’d been done to him. He needed to remember that now. “Thank you, Captain. Please meet me outside the flag conference room in…eight minutes.”

  If his memory served, the conference room lay about five minutes’ walk from his stateroom. Geary took advantage of the three minutes that left him to call up the fleet disposition again, staring intently at the way the ships of the Alliance fleet were formed up and mentally tallying their degrees of damage. What had once been a dutiful intellectual exercise had become something he must grasp as well as he could within three minutes. He noticed something missing from the display, something he knew ought to be there and added it in, then he stared at the display a little longer, trying to understand why it didn’t make sense to him.

  Once again through the passageways of the Dauntless, once again the faces of the crew harkening to him. Geary remembered his promise to Admiral Bloch and tried to look like he knew what he was doing. He’d been a junior officer once, so he’d learned that trick long ago. He wasn’t sure what else he might’ve learned that could really help now.

  An Alliance Marine stood at rigid attention outside of the flag conference room and saluted as Geary approached. The gesture startled him for a moment, until he realized that if anyone would retain old traditions it would be the Marines.

  Captain Desjani stepped forward. “Captain Geary, all ships’ commanding officers are present.”

  He looked toward the conference room, seeming to be empty from this angle and outside of the viewing area. “All of them.”

  “Yes, sir. Most of them seemed very happy to receive your order, sir,” Desjani added in a rush.

  “Happy.” Of course they’d been happy. They hadn’t known what to do. But now they had him to turn to. Desjani, too, who seemed to have shed at least a decade of age since Geary had told her he’d exercise command. Waiting for the hero to save the day, Geary thought bitterly. But that’s unfair. After what they’ve been through… He thought about how he felt, the emptiness inside, and wondered what emptiness these others might be feeling with their own universe suddenly changed beyond expectation. He gave the Dauntless’s Captain a searching look, trying to see beneath the weariness she projected. “What shape are they in?”

  She frowned as if uncertain of the question. “They’ve given us the latest status reports on damage to their ships, sir. You can access them—”

  “I already have. I don’t mean their ships. You talked to them. I assume you know them. What shape are they in?”

  Captain Desjani hesitated. “They’ve all seen the message from the Syndics, sir.”

  “You already told me that. Now tell me your honest opinion of those ship commanders. Have they been beaten?”

  “We’re not beaten, sir!” But the words seem to falter at the end, and Desjani’s eyes shifted toward the deck for a moment. “They’re…tired, sir. We all are. We thought this strike at the Syndic home system would finally tip the balance, finally bring about an end to the war. We’ve been fighting a very long time, sir. And we’ve gone from that hope to…to…”

  “This.” Geary didn’t want to hear the plan described again. Admiral Bloch had explained it a score of times when talking to Geary. A bold blow, made possible by something called the hypernet, which hadn’t existed in Geary’s time, and by a Syndic traitor. An alleged Syndic traitor, anyway. “Am I right in assuming the ships we’re confronting represent the bulk of the Syndic fleet?”

  “Yes, sir. Damn near the entire Syndic fleet.” Desjani’s voice wavered, and she visibly fought for control. “Waiting for us. Our leading elements didn’t stand a chance.”

  “The main body fought its way clear.”

  “Yes. But at considerable cost. Black—Excuse me. We can’t hope to defeat the Syndic forces out there with what we’ve got left.”

  Geary frowned, only half-noticing the way Desjani had abruptly changed what she was saying. More important, at the moment, was what she’d actually said. No hope. According to the ancient legend of Pandora’s box, hope was supposed to be the one gift the box had contained amidst its ills. Something to keep people going when nothing else was left. But if these people had truly lost hope…Then he looked squarely at Captain Desjani and saw again what he didn’t want to see. Hope did still exist there, in eyes focused on him.

  “Sir.” The Dauntless’s Captain spoke in an oddly stilted manner. “By your leave, sir. We need you, sir. They, we all, need something to believe in. Someone who can get us out of this.”

  “I’m not a legend, Captain, or whatever you think I am.” There. He’d finally said it. “I’m a man. I can’t work miracles.”

  “You’re ‘Black Jack’ Geary, sir! You fought one of the first battles of this war, against overwhelming odds.”

  “And I lost, Captain.”

  “No, sir!” Geary frowned again, startled by Desjani’s vehemence. “You held off the attack, you ensured every ship in that convoy got away! And then you still held the enemy, letting the other escorts escape. Held the Syndics off until you ordered your crew to save themselves while you remained behind and fought the enemy until your ship’s destruction. I learned that story in school, sir, just like every child in the Alliance!”

  Geary stared at her. It wasn’t like that, Captain, he wanted to say out loud. I fought because I had to. Because that was what I’d taken an oath to do. Then we stayed because my ship’d been too badly damaged to run. I told the crew to evacuate, yes, but that was my duty, too, not heroism. Someone had to provide covering fire a little longer so the escape pods could get away, and that was my job.

  I didn’t want to die. When my ship’s last combat system was knocked out, I set the power core on self-destruct and tried to get away using a remaining survival pod. A
damaged pod that was further damaged when my ship blew up. No working beacon. Just another piece of junk in a system filled with junk from the battle. No one found me. Not until almost a hundred years later, when your mighty fleet came sneaking through that backwater system and stumbled across me.

  To finally wake me up and tell me the Alliance has turned me into something I didn’t recognize. Promoted in the wake of my supposed death during my “last stand” to the rank of Captain in the fleet and legendary hero of the Alliance. I think I can be a Captain. How can anyone living be a legendary hero?

  But Geary said nothing, because looking at Desjani he knew she wouldn’t believe it, and because he now knew that if she did believe, he’d be killing her last hope. I promised the Admiral I’d save this fleet if I could. I don’t see how I can do that. But maybe this heroic idol they believe in has a chance of somehow doing it. “That was a long time ago, Captain,” he finally replied softly. “But I’ll do my best.” And pray it may be enough. “Now, before this meeting, what’s this ‘key’ business about?”

  Desjani looked carefully up and down the passageway before answering, and then spoke so quietly Geary could barely hear her. “The Syndic hypernet key is onboard the Dauntless.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  She looked startled. “I’m sorry. I forgot you didn’t have hypernet.”

  “All I know about it is that this hypernet provides much faster interstellar travel than the system jump drives do.”

  “Much faster. Yes, sir. The exact advantage over system jumps varies based on some science I frankly don’t understand, but it’s usually by a factor between ten times and one hundred times as fast.”

  “Damn.”

  Captain Desjani nodded, looking around quickly to once again ensure no one could hear them. “Unlike the system jumps, which use the gravity wells from stars, a hypernet has to be created, and when a hypernet is set up, the entire net is aligned to what’s usually called a frequency, though it’s actually something more complicated than that. Each gate is assigned a sort of subfrequency. To use a particular hypernet, you need what’s called a key. It allows you enter that net and select the gate you want.”

  Geary nodded, trying to absorb the implications. “So having a key to the Syndic hypernet let’s us use it. Where’d Dauntless get a Syndic key?”

  “We got it from the traitor.” Her face twisted. “The double traitor. It made our strike at the Syndic home system possible.”

  “I see. They gave you the means to get here and then waited for you.” Guessing you’d never be able to resist such an opportunity.

  Desjani grimaced. “Yes, sir.”

  “Then the Syndics know we have this key. Why’s the fact it’s on Dauntless so important?”

  “Because they know we had it, but they don’t know what ship it was on. They don’t know if it’s been destroyed already. They don’t know if one of the surviving ships still has it. If they knew it was on Dauntless…”

  “They’d immediately throw everything they had at her to make sure the key was destroyed.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “They can’t just change the, uh, frequency of their hypernet?”

  Desjani shook her head. “That’s impossible, Captain Geary. Once the net is constructed, its fundamental characteristics can’t be changed.”

  Geary thought for a moment, all too aware of how much he had to learn but also knowing that he had to get into the conference room quickly to meet with the gathering ship captains. “How big is this key?”

  “Too big for someone to carry, if that’s what you mean. It’s large and heavy.”

  “Can we duplicate it? Make copies and give some to other ships?”

  “No. Copying a hypernet key is beyond the capabilities of any ship in the fleet. Back home, in Alliance space, there are worlds with that capability.”

  He thought for another moment, thought about what that key would mean to the Alliance if it could be returned home. One more responsibility for the great hero to shoulder. “Let’s go meet the ship commanders.” People who looked like him but apparently didn’t quite think like him. How long would it take him to figure out the differences forged by a hundred years, a hundred years spent at war? He’d have to listen carefully to everything they said…“Wait. One more thing. A few moments ago, when you said we didn’t have any chance of defeating the Syndic fleet here, you started to say something else. What?”

  Desjani looked uncomfortable, her eyes shifting to look past Geary. “I…I started to say that Black Jack himself couldn’t defeat this Syndic fleet. Sir.”

  Black Jack himself couldn’t do it. The expression had the ring of something used all the time. For a moment, Geary couldn’t figure out how to respond to that. Then a twinge of self-mockery came to his rescue. “Well, Captain Desjani, we’d better hope you’re wrong about that, hadn’t we?”

  She stared at him, then unexpectedly grinned. “Yes.”

  Geary went inside. Desjani followed him into the room, then when he paused, she indicated one seat not far from the door. The conference room wasn’t all that large in reality. Geary had seen it with the conferencing systems off, just a moderately sized room with a moderately sized table to accommodate those who might actually sit in here. But with the systems on, as Geary came to his designated seat at the table, he saw it stretching out with scores of seats, each seat occupied by the commanding officer of a fleet ship. Geary couldn’t help staring a little at them, amazed at how each officer looked exactly like he or she was sitting here instead of on their own ships. As his eyes focused on each, their image came close, as if they were now sitting nearby, and a small tag popped up with their name and ship clearly identified. In the center of the table, easy to see from every seat, a large projection showed the disposition of the Alliance Fleet and of the Syndics. Virtual image technology had clearly improved during his long sleep.

  I guess it’s a lot easier to hold meetings now. Geary took a moment to wonder if that was a good thing, or if that was one of the things which had sapped the spirit from the fleet. He stood at his seat, wondering if anyone should or would call everyone else to attention, but when that didn’t happen, he sat stiffly.

  No one spoke. With the exception of Captain Desjani, who’d taken a real seat just to his left, every other officer was looking at him. Geary looked back at them, one by one, letting his gaze linger on each briefly before moving on. Some gazed back with carefully blank expressions, hiding their thoughts. A number of others held challenges in their eyes, plainly not receptive to Geary’s authority. But the majority stared at him with the desperation of the dying, praying for deliverance. To varying degrees, all of them seemed weary and worried.

  Geary took a deep breath, deciding to deliberately avoid the informality he’d seen among this fleet in favor of the formal speech and actions he’d always known. “For those of you who haven’t met me, I am Captain John Geary. When Admiral Bloch left the Dauntless, he placed me in command of the fleet. I intend to carry out that responsibility to the best of my ability.” He wondered what his voice sounded like to them, what the words meant to them.

  A woman who must be approaching retirement age gave Geary an acidic look. “Did Admiral Bloch provide any reason for that action?”

  Geary frowned at her, feeling a slow glow of heat forming inside and welcoming the relief from the coldness he’d felt since being rescued. “I’m personally not accustomed to asking my superiors to provide me with reasons to justify their decisions.” A ripple ran through the ranks of the ship captains, but what it meant he couldn’t tell. “Admiral Bloch did, however, inform me that I was the senior officer in rank and length of service remaining with this fleet.”

  The woman’s eyebrows shot upward. “Length of service? Are you serious?”

  “Are you suggesting we compare dates of rank, Captain…” he looked at the identifying tag floating near her, “Captain Faresa?”

  “That would be meaningless, as you are a
ware.”

  “No, I am not aware.” Geary let the growing heat enter his voice. “If this fleet begins picking and choosing which rank and seniority factors matter, it will dissolve into chaos, and you will all die.”

  A moment of silence followed before another officer broke in. Captain Numos of the Orion, Geary saw. “Are you suggesting you can somehow offer us salvation? There are only two options available to us as a fleet, Captain. We die fighting, or submit to, at best, living slavery and slower death.”

  Geary found himself smiling wearily. “I can die fighting. I imagine it’s easier the second time around.”

  Captain Duellos, of the Courageous, laughed. “Very good, Captain Geary! If that’s our fate—”

  Numos interrupted again. “There’s another option. If we break up, every ship for itself, some of us may win through to the hypernet gate—”

  “Break up?” another captain demanded. “You mean every ship for itself?”

  “Yes! The slower and more heavily damaged ships are doomed anyway. There’s no sense—”

  “My ship took damage because it absorbed enemy fire that would’ve been aimed at yours otherwise! And now you want to leave us to Syndic labor camps?”

  “If there’s no alternative—”

  “Quiet.” It wasn’t until everyone stared at him that Geary realized he’d spoken. From their expressions, he wondered what his voice had sounded like this time. “This fleet will not abandon any ships.”

  Numos spoke again and Geary could see some of the other officers nodding in agreement with his words. “That’s not a reasoned judgment because you’re not qualified to command this fleet. You know that. Your knowledge of weapons and tactics is hopelessly outdated. You lack understanding of the current situation, here and at home. You—”

  Something inside Geary flared to full life in a blast of heat. “Captain Numos, I am not here to debate command issues with you or any other officer of this fleet.”

  “You’re not qualified to command! You don’t know—”